The rain came softly that morning — thin streaks falling against the windows of the estate, steady but calm, as though the world outside knew they needed a moment of quiet before the storm that would surely follow.
Damien stood by the wide glass doors of the living room, a mug of untouched coffee cooling in his hand. His reflection was faint in the glass, framed by the gray sky and the movement of droplets racing down the pane.
He hadn’t slept well. The nights were long lately, not because of the work, but because of the waiting. Waiting for the next lead, the next report, the next step that might finally bring Sera home.
The faint sound of footsteps reached him from behind. Light ones. Familiar.
He didn’t turn immediately. “You’re up early,” he said, his voice calm, almost weary.
“I
