The afternoon did not carry the softness it promised, for though the sun lingered warm upon the estate, the air within its walls held something heavier, something unsettled that did not fade with light.
Alessandro stood alone near the far edge of the courtyard, where the stone met the quiet stretch of shadow cast by the old walls, his posture straight, yet his stillness carried tension that did not belong to rest.
His hands were clasped behind his back, though his fingers tightened faintly against each other, a small, controlled motion that betrayed what his expression refused to reveal.
Voices carried faintly from the distance, the low murmur of wolves moving, speaking, adjusting, yet none approached him, none interrupted the space he had claimed without words.
"…they follow her," he said quietly.
The words did not rise.
They settled.
