Kurt descended the marble staircase, his steps slower now, more deliberate. The storm inside him had quieted, replaced by a cold fatigue that pressed against his chest. His jaw was tight, his eyes scanning the building as if every shadow might betray him.
The Falconer Estate was different at night. The corridors that once bustled with staff and voices were silent, heavy, as though the entire building had fallen into sleep. Chandeliers glowed faintly, their light dimmed, casting long shadows across polished floors. The air was still, too still, the kind of silence that made him feel watched.
He reached the ground floor.
A soft voice broke the hush. “Young Master.”
One of the employees, a young woman in Falconer livery, stepped forward, her posture neat, her tone polite. She bowe
