The walk back to the estate was suffocatingly silent.
The estate was completely quiet when we slipped back through the rear gate. I guided Alicia straight into my ground-floor study, locking the heavy oak door behind us.
With a flick of my wrist, the magical lumen-lights flickered to life, casting harsh shadows across the room.
Alicia stood rigidly in the center of the plush carpet.
Her clothes were soaked in dried blood and putrid sewer water. She looked incredibly small, keeping her crimson eyes fixed firmly on the floor.
I walked over to the mahogany desk, pulled out my chair, and sat down.
I didn't say a word.
I just let the heavy, suffocating silence stretch. I let the ticking of the grandfather clock fill the room, letting the tension build until she couldn't bear the weight of it anymore.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking in the quiet room.
"Sorry? You could have died, Alicia," I said flatly, crossing my arms.
She flinched as if I had struck her.
