CHAPTER 32: THE PREPARATION
Point of View: Lorain Hart
The phone in my hand felt heavy, cold, and entirely foreign.
A formal audit of your family's residential status and academic sponsorship has been scheduled.
The words rang in my ears like a slow, dull bell. The secretary’s voice had been so clipped, so sterile, as if she were delivering news about an overdue library book rather than the systematic dismantling of my family's entire existence.
Beside me, the silence of the dark arena stretched razor-thin.
Saviour didn't move. He stood in the dim amber glow of the concourse, his towering frame casting a long, sharp shadow against the blue-taped floor. The gentle softness that had touched his face moments ago vanished completely, replaced by that terrifying, unyielding stone mask.
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