The house feels like it’s holding its breath.
Not quiet. Not peaceful. Just suspended, like everything inside it knows what’s coming and is bracing for the impact. Even the air feels thicker, harder to pull into my lungs. I sit on the edge of the bed with my hands braced on either side of me, feet planted on the floor like that might keep the world from tilting, while Damian moves through the room with deliberate calm.
That calm is wrong.
It’s the kind that only shows up when chaos is already locked in and there’s nothing left to negotiate. No uncertainty. No second-guessing. Just a straight line forward.
He doesn’t rush.
That’s what scares me most.
If he were frantic, if he moved like time was chasing him, I could pretend there was still room to interrupt this. That something hadn’t
