The house was too quiet when they returned.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet—this one was heavy, echoing with everything that had almost been lost. The front door closed behind them with a soft click, and for the first time since the opera house, William felt the weight of exhaustion settle into his bones.
Elisse didn’t move immediately. She stood in the foyer, arms wrapped around herself, gaze unfocused. The adrenaline had worn off, leaving only the aftermath—the sharp, aching awareness of how close everything had come to shattering.
William watched her carefully.
This was the moment that mattered most.
Not the confrontation.
Not the victory.
But what he did now.
“I should check the perimeter,” he said quietly. “Make sure—”
“No,” Elisse interrupted, not harsh, but firm.
He stopped
