The explosion of splintering wood shattered the quiet of Elias Blackwood's study as the double doors flew inward, crashing against the walls with enough force to leave cracks in the ancient oak paneling. Asher stood in the wreckage, his broad shoulders heaving, golden eyes blazing with an intensity that hadn't burned there in years. The scent of crushed pine needles and barely-contained fury rolled off him in waves, mixing with the rich aroma of Elias's whiskey and Rose's spilled tea. Knocking doesn't seem like his thing at all by now.
Rose's porcelain cup almost slipped from suddenly numb fingers, spilling a few drops against the hardwood floor. She barely noticed the mess, her entire focus locked on her grandson's face - the first real emotion she'd seen there since the poisoning. Elias
