The house smells like blood and burned herbs.
I’m on my knees, scrubbing the hardwood where Quinley nearly bled out. My arms ache, but I don’t stop. If I stop, I’ll think. And if I think, I’ll shatter.
Tyler moves quietly around me, picking up shards of glass from the broken coffee table and sweeping them into a dustpan. Sage is at the couch, carefully wrapping Quinley’s ribs in clean bandages, murmuring reassurance in that soft, steady tone that makes people believe her even when they shouldn’t.
The front door opens.
I don’t have to look up to know who it is. His presence fills the room like a shift in air pressure.
Alaric strides in, his eyes sweeping once over the wreckage before landing on Quinley. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t hesitate. Just pulls his arm up and bites at his wrist, k
