The room goes quiet after the voice message ends.
Not calm quiet. Not relief. The kind of silence that presses in from every side, heavy and brittle, like the air itself is holding its breath right before something shatters.
I feel it in Damian before I see it.
His body goes rigid beneath my hands, every muscle locking at once like a coiled spring finally pulled too tight. His breathing changes. Shorter. Sharper. Controlled only by sheer force of will. The warmth I was clinging to a second ago turns into something dangerously tense.
He pulls away from me abruptly.
“Damian,” I say, reaching for him, panic already creeping up my spine.
He does not answer.
He turns, pacing once across the room, then again, steps too fast, movements clipped and jagged. His hands fist at his sides like h
