Chapter 80: The Forceful Decision
Harlan Sterling turned his back to the scratched circle of glass, stepping away from the bay window as a draft hissed through the frozen timber. The vast drawing room smelled of damp plaster, stale smoke, and the sour metallic tang of human bodies pushed to the brink of collapse. Every breath he exhaled drifted into the gloom in thick white plumes, hovering over the wrecked floorboards where splinters of antique mahogany mingled with gray soot.
In the far corner, slumped against the base of an overturned display cabinet, Torin clutched his ribcage with both arms.
His son was trembling so hard that his boots drummed a frantic, irregular rhythm against the floorboards. A wet, hollow rattle rose from his throat, followed by a violent coughing fit that doub
