The tablet lay dark and lifeless on the chair, but the echo of Isabelle's whisper still slithered through the air like smoke.
You're not the only mother who knows how to hunt.
Emily didn't move. Didn't breathe. She only stared forward, her expression an unreadable mask. Something inside her — something delicate, something human — tightened, cracked, and then shattered quietly without complaint.
Alexander stepped closer, slow and careful, like approaching a creature who had just opened its eyes for the first time after evolution.
"Emily," he whispered.
Her fingers curled once, then loosened.
"She was in our room," Emily said softly. "She was in my room. Over my face. Over my body. Close enough to feel my breath."
Her voice did not tremble — and that frightened Alexander more than any scream.
"She filmed me," she continued. "For how long? Minutes? Hours?"
Her eyes darkened. "How long was she watching me sleep?"
Alexander stepped beside her. "We'll find out."
