Elias Pov

"What did you do?" I whispered again, my voice cracking the heavy silence of the living room.

Camille didn't answer. She stood there like a statue carved from ice, her fingers still curled around the handle of the silver kitchen knife. The blood was dark, almost black against the pale silk of her skirts.

I didn't wait for her to find her words. I lunged forward, dropping to my knees beside Margaret. Her skin was already turning gray. The wound was deep, right below her ribs, and the blood was pulsing out with a terrifying rhythm. I stripped off my blazer and pressed it against the opening, the...