**LANDON**
I feel it before I understand it.
The bond tightens suddenly, not flaring or snapping, just compressing in on itself in a way that tells me Cheyenne has drawn another wall inward, controlled but real, the kind of restraint that takes effort to maintain. It is not panic. It is not fear. It is pressure being managed carefully, and that distinction makes my jaw tighten long before I move.
I find her in the utility room off the east hall, sleeves pushed up, hands submerged in warm water as she washes dishes that do not strictly need washing, movements precise and unhurried, like she is determined to finish the task exactly the way it should be done. Towels are folded neatly on the counter beside her, stacks aligned with unnecessary care, domestic normalcy pressed into place like
