At the Lacy villa, the atmosphere had turned suffocating.
A murderous pressure rolled through the grand living hall like a violent storm front. Matthew Powell stood at its center, the rage radiating from him so tangible it felt as if the air itself had grown heavier. Every member of the Lacy family present kept their heads lowered, breath held tight, terrified that even the smallest sound might draw his attention.
No one dared speak.
Not even Tom Lacy.
They had never seen Matthew Powell like this—not the quiet, restrained man they mocked behind closed doors, not the so-called useless son-in-law. What stood before them now was something else entirely, something closer to a death god dragged straight out of hell, wrapped in human skin.
The phone in Matthew’s hand buzzed faintly as the c
