The rain had not ceased for three days, a relentless, rhythmic weeping against the tall, leaded-glass windows of the study. It turned the sprawl of Oakhaven into a blurred watercolor”a landscape of dissolving gold streetlights and bleeding crimson neon, all washed away by a deluge that felt less like weather and more like a celestial cleansing.
Inside the sanctuary of the study, the world narrowed down to the crackle of the massive gothic hearth. The fire was a living, breathing entity, throwing long, spasmodic shadows that danced across the mahogany shelves, illuminating the spines of ancient tomes that held the secrets of a dying civilization.
Cattleya lay curled against the hard, unyielding plane of Rusty”s chest on the wide leather sofa. A cashmere throw was tangled about them, a fra
