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The first thing that struck me wasn't the sound of sirens.
No, it was the silence that preceded them.
It crept in like a held breath as I walked back to the study, settling over the mansion in a way that felt wrong, almost as if the walls were bracing for something inevitable. The fire in the study had dwindled, its crackling turned into a muted pop, and the lingering scent of burnt paper hung in the air, coating my throat each time I swallowed.
No one spoke.
Adrien was standing just a few feet ahead, his shoulders tense, his posture rigid, somehow making him appear taller than usual. But I knew it wasn't confidence keeping him upright; it was something more brittle and fragile, as if any touch could shatter him.
Across the room, Keith had gone still.
His face was bruised, and there were marks on his neck. I'd only stepped away for a few minutes, and already, Adrien had taken it upon himself to beat his father's ass.
