The storm came without thunder.
It was the kind of storm Sierra had learned to recognize not by sound but by silence the quiet, waiting, coiled silence that clung to the halls of the Steele estate like a predator ready to pounce.
By morning, she felt it in her bones.
Damien was gone when she woke, leaving only the faint scent of cigar smoke on her sheets. Vanessa, however, was already waiting.
Her mother’s summons arrived with cold efficiency. Join me in the parlor at noon.
No excuses. No delay.
Sierra dressed with trembling hands, every brush of fabric against her skin reminding her of Damien’s bruises. Her reflection in the mirror showed a girl who should have looked broken but there was steel beneath the surface now, hidden behind her trembling. She was learning how to wear silenc
