DARIAN

The moment I step into the Haven, something feels off.

It’s in the air. Heavy. Like tension pressed into the walls, waiting. I ignore it at first. Could be me, maybe I’m still carrying the scent of her on my skin, the feel of her in my hands, the ache of her voice still soft in my head.

But then I turn the corner into the main living room and stop.

My father is seated at the center, his posture regal and sharp, dressed in his usual black. To his left, Adrian. To his right, Zeus. And Kelvin on the couch, looking unusually alert for this early in the...