The heavy front doors didn't just open; they practically splintered off the hinges as Xavier stormed back into the mansion. The pungent scent of rain, burnt gunpowder, and cheap adrenaline followed him inside like a foul perfume, clinging to the heavy air of the grand foyer.
Sienna was exactly where he'd left her—minus the crystal glass she'd shattered against the brick fireplace. She didn't look at the dark blood dripping from his split knuckles, nor did she look at the grim, ash-smudged faces of the guards trailing behind him. She just looked at his completely empty hands.
"You lost her," she said. It wasn't a question. Her voice was dangerously quiet, the kind of absolute calm that comes right before a category-five storm tears the roof off a house.
