The master bedroom was wrapped in a heavy stillness, the kind that made every breath feel too loud.
Selene lay unconscious atop the luxurious bed, her dark violet hair splayed around her like a fallen halo. Her face—usually kind and elegant—was pale from shock. Darian sat beside her, hunched forward, elbows on his knees. One hand hovered protectively near Selene's arm, the other massaging his brow as though the migraine of parenthood had suddenly evolved into a full-blown catastrophe.
Across from them stood everyone else, awkwardly arranged like statues caught in a scandalous museum exhibit.
Luca stood nearest to the bed, rigid, shoulders locked tight, trying to shrink into the dimensions of a mere background decoration. His eyes flickered between his mother and the door—as if plotting escape routes.
