The chandelier still swung gently overhead, shards of broken glass catching red-blue lights from the flashing cruisers outside.
Jack stood at the edge of the chaos, arms crossed, a fresh line of gauze wrapped around his arm. The silk shawl Sarah had torn to bind it was already stained a deep crimson. But he wasn’t focused on the pain.
His mind was miles ahead—calculating and planning.
War had returned. And so had its ghosts.
“Jack,” Sarah said softly from behind. “You should rest. At least a few hours.”
He didn’t answer right away. His eyes tracked the front gates, then the horizon beyond them. The estate had turned into a fortress overnight. Police, press, and whispers filled the city like smog.
“I can’t sleep,” he said finally. “Not until I know what their next move is.”
Before Sa
