The room resembled a scene from a bad dream. Mr. Harris, the once-trusted groundskeeper, lay sprawled on the floor, disarmed and panting, his usually friendly face twisted into a mask of fear and desperation.
Richard, pale and bruised, propped himself against the wall, his shocked gaze flitting between Amelia and Victor.
Amelia stood frozen in the middle of the chaos, Victor's protective hand still wrapped around her arm. The near attack had left them coursing through her veins, a potent cocktail of fear and confusion.
"Mr. Harris?" She breathed, her voice shaky. "Why? Why were you attacking us?"
Mr. Harris remained silent, his eyes darting between them all. The tension in the room was thick, the silence broken only by the ragged gasps escaping his lips.
Victor, ever the pragmatist, s
