The digital clock on my nightstand glowed a cold, neon blue: 8:30 PM.
Outside, the San Francisco fog was a thick, suffocating blanket pressing against the windows of our mansion. The house felt like a tomb tonight. Down the hall, in a room filled with stuffed animals and the soft hum of a humidifier, Leo was asleep. Nanny B and Jupiter were not far from him, but even their presence couldn't ease the knot in my stomach.
I had tried calling Asher three times. Then Marcus. Every call ended in the same robotic voicemail. Earlier before he left, I overheard him telling Marcus where they were headed to. They were at the Iron Rust—the massive, rusted shipyard where the Sovereign's business was conducted in blood and steel. When Asher was there, he became a ghost. Nothing else outside the world matters at that very moment to him. But tonight, before he left, there was a kind of expression on his face that spoke of danger.
