Ian's POV

Death, my most hated relative and the most important. Yesterday, he came knocking on the door of someone Gabrielle held so dear.

The sun tore through my high windows, lighting up the parlor. I was in the open plan kitchen, making some hot coffee for Gabrielle.

She sat on my brown sofa, covering herself up with a grey blanket. Staring into nothingness, she kept on rocking herself on the sofa. Sadness had engulfed her every self as she heard of the demise of her only sister.

"We have to hide all the knifes in this manor," Zara suggested, resting a fore arm on the white kitchen slab.

"Why?"...