Katrina’s POV
The silver cutlery clinked softly against porcelain, the only sound in the cavernous dining hall. I chewed without tasting, staring blankly at the dark oak table stretched before me. Chandeliers glimmered above, their glow too bright, too polished, too suffocating.
Damon wasn’t here. For once, the shadow at the head of the table was missing, and his absence left the silence sharper, heavier. I should’ve felt relief, but instead my chest tightened with unease. Damon’s absence was never harmless—he was always lurking somewhere, orchestrating, calculating.
I pushed food around my plate, appetite gone. That’s when I felt it.
A slip of movement.
My eyes flicked down just in time to see the maid brushing past, lowering her head as though she’d done nothing more than refill my
