My neck nearly snapped from how fast I whipped my head toward the broken doorway. My eyes stretched so wide the corners stung, and my heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought it might crack them.
Standing right there in the splintered frame of my entrance, pale and breathless, was Mason. And tucked right against his shoulder, her knuckles white around the strap of her handbag, was Seraphina. She looked like she'd run the whole way there, her hair disheveled, her chest heaving with ragged, uneven breaths.
Her eyes darted around the wreckage of my living room, taking in the overturned lamp, the scattered glass, the two men in dark suits, before landing on me with a look of pure, unfiltered horror.
No. No, no, no. Why now? Why today?
