ARIA
The room felt like it was holding its breath.
Marcus Whitmore stood at the head of the table, the thick document spread before him, his reading glasses perched on his nose. He cleared his throat, and the murmuring in the room died immediately.
"I, Ewan Alistair Roman, being of sound mind and body, do hereby declare this to be my last will and testament, executed on the fifteenth of October, in the year of our Lord..."
His voice was formal, measured, carrying the weight of legality and finality.
I sat beside Kael, our hands still intertwined beneath the table. His thumb traced slow circles on my skin, the only outward sign of whatever he was feeling.
Across the room, Andrew slouched in his chair, tissues still pressed to his nose from where I'd broken it. His eyes were bloodshot... whether from pain or whatever substance he'd taken, I couldn't tell.
