The next morning arrived far too quickly for Elius.
He descended the stairs, yawning faintly and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his heart heavy even though the early sunlight slanted warmly through the windows.
The house smelled of breakfast—something sweet and buttery—and for a moment, he dared to hope it would be a normal morning.
But as he reached the bottom step, the sight before him made him freeze.
Colt—Radiant Man himself—and Shannon, his mother, were dancing in the living room.
There was music playing from an old radio, a bright, jazzy tune that seemed almost out of place in this modern world.
Shannon was laughing, truly laughing, her cheeks flushed, her hair bouncing lightly with each twirl Colt guided her through.
Colt, for his part, looked as relaxed and casual as any husband on a Sunday morning, his usual overwhelming aura tucked neatly away.
Elius's stomach twisted.
Disgusting.
