The mansion held its breath, a grand, silent judge of the chaos that had just passed through its halls. Dust motes, disturbed by Marcus's earlier violence, still danced lazily in the sliver of evening light filtering through the tall, arched windows. The air itself felt thick, metallic with the faint scent of fear and ozone.
Nera cried harder, her tiny body shaking uncontrollably in Sofia's arms—a fragile, trembling monument to a fear too profound for her small frame.
And Marcus,
for the first time in his life,
had no idea what the hell to do.
