Silence hung in the air, thick and suffocating.
Makayla’s breath was caught in her throat, her heart pounding against her ribs.
Consumed?
The word felt heavy, foreign, like something too dark to grasp entirely.
Mikhail was the first to break the silence, his voice sharp.
“What do you mean consumed?”
Vivienne let out a slow, shallow breath, her gaze flickering with something unreadable.
“I mean,” she murmured, “your father isn’t just turning into something new. He’s losing himself. Piece by piece.”
Makayla’s stomach twisted.
She had known something was wrong.
She had felt it.
The way Gino had looked at her. The way his eyes had flickered with recognition—only to be swallowed by something else a second later.
Something inhuman.
Mikhail’s jaw tightened.
“Tell us everything,” he
