Sylvan Cheney held her in his arms, his large hand gently stroking her long hair.
"Things like accidents, no one can predict." His raspy voice slowly resonated above her head, "The departed are gone."
Jasmine Yale nodded, lying against Sylvan Cheney's chest.
The last time she watched the news, she still harbored a faint hope that it wasn't Zaiden Santos.
But it turned out there was no such luck.
Sylvan Cheney's embrace was warm; she stayed nestled in his arms, unwilling to come out.
Many times, his embrace had been her haven; sometimes, a hug from him was enough.
Sylvan Cheney bowed his head, his thin lips gliding over her forehead, planting soft kisses.
"Ann Nolan's fine. My people found out she's already left the cemetery and headed to the airport. However, while at the cemetery, she ran into Harper Glorian."
"Did they argue?"
"Not sure, but Harper Glorian likely didn't gain the upper hand."
