The silence at the breakfast table was suffocating, a thick layer of forced normalcy that felt like it could shatter into a thousand jagged pieces with the next clink of a silver fork against porcelain. Mom was staring blankly into her tea, her mind clearly miles away.
Theon, however, was very much present and accounted for. He sat there leaning back in his chair with a casual arrogance, a piece of toast halfway to his mouth. His eyes darted with lightning speed between me and his father. He knew exactly why
Eryx was sitting so stiffly that he looked like he was carved out of granite, and he knew exactly why my legs were hidden beneath the table, busy doing work that wasn't exactly polite.
Eryx’s grip on my ankles was bruising, his fingers like iron bands. He wasn't just holding me; he
