The morning sun cast a warm glow across the breakfast table, illuminating the simple spread of toast and fruit. Deimon sat across from Kate, a mug of coffee clutched in his hands. He seemed lost in thought, his brow furrowed as he stared out the window. Kate hesitated, then cleared her throat, the sound echoing in the sudden silence.
"So," she began, "about Monica…"
Deimon's gaze snapped toward her, a flicker of something akin to pain crossing his features. He pursed his lips, then let out a sigh. "We'll deal with her. Elara has been informed, and she'll handle it."
Kate swallowed, a wave of disappointment washing over her. She wanted details, reassurance that Monica wouldn't get away with her threats. But Deimon seemed reluctant to discuss it further, and she didn't want to push him.
