Ofelia’s POV
The moment Thomas said the northern fence had been broken, Damien changed.
The softness that had entered his expression during our conversation disappeared. His shoulders straightened, his jaw hardened, and the man standing beside me became the cold, controlled Damien everyone at Blackwood Enterprises feared.
“What did you find?” he asked.
“Tracks near the boundary,” Thomas replied. “And blood on the wire.”
Damien’s gaze moved toward the library windows.
The forest stood beyond the garden, silent beneath the afternoon sunlight.
“How long ago?”
“Less than thirty minutes.”
“Has anyone left the property?”
“No, sir. The staff have been accounted for.”
“Good.”
Damien crossed the room and reached for the jacket hanging over the back of a chair.
I stepped into his path.
