The rain had softened to a steady drizzle.
Morning light filtered through the tall glass windows of the lake house, casting long reflections across the polished wooden floor. Outside, the lake was calm again, as though the previous night's violence had never happened.
Inside, the atmosphere remained anything but peaceful.
No one had touched the breakfast dishes.
The television was muted, still displaying the news coverage outside Blackwood & Vale. Police officers moved in and out of the building while reporters speculated endlessly.
Clara stood near the fireplace, one hand resting lightly against the mantel. Her injured arm was secured in a sling, but it was the look in her eyes—not the wound—that told everyone she was carrying a far heavier burden.
Damien entered the living room fir
