Alec slammed the remote from Damien’s trembling hand and barked, “What the hell is wrong with you? Why the f**k are you walking in slow motion?!” His voice thundered across the dining room, silencing even the soft clatter of cutlery. Without waiting another second, Alec turned on the TV himself, his jaw clenched, fury radiating off him in waves.
The television flickered to life, but the volume was muted. No one paid attention—at least not at first. But Alec’s eyes locked on the screen, and within seconds, all the rage drained from his face. His expression twisted into something far more terrifying: shock.
His fingers slackened around the remote. His breath hitched.
The blood in his veins felt like ice, freezing him in place. His chest tightened painfully as his skin turned ghostly pale.
