The moment Clarissa Ashford's expression twisted into something feral and accusatory, Quinn Thorne understood. The necrotic aura had burrowed too deep into her, warping her emotions and fraying whatever rational thought she had left. This wasn't a woman in control of herself anymore.
Bastian Ashford's brow furrowed as he watched his wife snarl at their guest. It was the twenty-first century. Superstition belonged in history books and cautionary tales, not in serious conversations about his daughter's health. And yet here was this young man, standing in his home, claiming that Clementine was suffering from demonic possession. Treating an illness was one thing, but dragging spirits and curses into the discussion felt like a step too far, and the tension in his jaw betrayed just how close he
