For one terrible heartbeat, I forgot how to breathe.
“The house?” My voice came out thin. “What do you mean the house?”
Roman’s expression stayed grim.
“Fire.”
The word hit like a physical blow.
No.
No no no.
My mind immediately filled with images of Briarvale. The old weatherboard house. The front porch Dad rebuilt himself. The kitchen table with burn marks from overheated pans. Every piece of my childhood wrapped inside those walls.
Gone?
Again?
Beside me, Damien became absolutely still.
The kind of stillness that made the room feel dangerous.
“When,” he asked quietly.
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“Anyone inside?”
“No.”
Relief crashed through me so hard my knees weakened instantly.
Thank God.
Thank God.
But grief followed immediately after.
Sharp and furious.
My father’s wo
