The mansion did not fracture.
It compressed.
After Dominic Hale's visit, after the photographs were laid flat on cold steel like quiet threats, the air inside the estate changed temperature. Not colder.
Sharper.
Matthew issued no dramatic declarations. No raised voices. No rushed evacuation.
He simply shifted pieces.
Guards rotated on irregular intervals. Surveillance grids re-mapped. Blind spots re-evaluated. Internal access points narrowed.
But Dominic hadn't come for immediate violence.
He'd come for psychology.
And psychology required patience.
The photographs didn't scare Noah.
That was the problem.
He studied them again in his room that night.
The angles were impressive.
High resolution. Different days. Different positions.
One from the courtyard two weeks ago.
One from the greenhouse.
One from the west hall window.
"They want me to feel hunted," he murmured.
Aiden stood near the door, arms folded loosely but posture tight.
