–Damon–
I didn't step into the site itself—the one drenched in blood, our enemies scattered like broken pieces of a failed rebellion. It could've been Tyrona. But after a full sweep and investigation, it wasn't her direct men. Connected to her, perhaps. Orbiting her influence. But not hers.
I memorized the details anyway. I always do.
When I arrived at the mansion, the air felt different. Quieter.
My son was curled against Jane, looking lethargic—far from his usual hyperactive self. That alone tightened something in my chest.
"Dada," he murmured softly, raising his tiny hand to wave at me.
I crossed the room in seconds. "What's wrong?"
"He vomited from overeating," Jane explained gently. "And I shouldn't have given him cold fruits after."
"Oh." I exhaled, shrugging lightly to ease her guilt. "That's Sky."
I sprayed my hands with alcohol, stripped off my shirt, and lifted him carefully.
