AUTHORS POV

The Lorenzo mansion had grown quieter over the past few weeks—quieter, but not calmer. The atmosphere inside was like walking through thick fog—stifling, uncertain. Pedro sat in his study, fingers curled tightly around his glass of scotch, watching the ice melt slowly.

He hadn’t heard Dean’s footsteps in over an hour. Normally, the boy would be bouncing down the hall, dragging some toy or book behind him, or calling out for “cartoons” or “snacks.” But tonight, the silence was ominous.

Then came the crash.

Pedro jumped to his feet and stormed out. He found Dean in the hallway, clutching a broken action figure. His face was flushed, and...