The drive back to The Black Swan felt like swimming through molasses—every second stretched impossibly long while urgency clawed at Samantha's chest.
She sat in the passenger seat, fingers twisted together until her knuckles went white, watching the city blur past through windows that reflected her own haunted expression.
Marcus drove with the kind of controlled precision that came from channeling panic into action, his jaw set in a hard line that hadn't softened since they'd left the house.
In the back seat, Callum sat rigid as carved stone, his violet eyes fixed on some distant point, though Samantha could feel the barely contained fire radiating from him in waves.
Nova had remained at home with Sage, who had promised to maintain protective wards around the property and monitor for any magical disturbances.
