{Julian’s pov}
Agnes stood in the center of the room like a storm nobody had seen coming. Her cheeks were red, her breathing sharp, and her voice rang across the hall like a church bell gone rogue.
“Why,” she hissed, “would George give her—a stranger, such authority? Why would he give her the keys to doors that were meant to stay closed?”
No one answered. Not right away.
I stood by the window, arms crossed, jaw locked. The rest of my brothers circled the room—Luca pacing, Aaron leaning against the wall, Marcus seated but tense. Clara hovered in the background, visibly uncomfortable. Debra hadn’t said a word since we all got dragged from our rooms.
Agnes went on. “You don’t give a girl like that the key to the garden wing unless you want everything we buried to come crawling back.”
I
