BLAKE’S P.O.V.
The night outside the manor was thick and silent. The kind of silence that crawled under your skin and made your instincts flare. I stepped out onto the front steps, the air biting cold against my skin. My boots crunched on gravel as I scanned the courtyard. Nothing. No movement. No sound except for the low rustle of the trees in the distance.
Clara wasn’t there.
I called her name once, low and cautious. My voice didn’t carry far, swallowed by the fog creeping in from the woods. I tried again, louder this time. “Clara!”
Still nothing.
A flicker of irritation sparked in my chest. Maybe she’d gone to the gardens. She liked walking there when she was upset. I headed that way, my steps quick and uneven. The moonlight spilled faintly through the branches, but the fog blurred
