Kendrick
The air felt wrong.
Something was wrong.
I could feel it crawling beneath my skin like a thousand insects—prickling, gnawing, warning me. The silence in the manor was too complete. No whispers of her voice, no distant footfalls, no scent of lavender and rain. Kimberly was gone.
I knew it the moment I stepped into her room.
The sheets were twisted, like she’d struggled. A broken vase lay in shattered pieces beneath the window, streaks of blood drying on the edge of the sill. But it wasn’t just the wreckage that told me—no, it was the overwhelming emptiness that clawed at my gut like a beast.
My roar cracked through the manor walls, shaking portraits loose and silencing every servant within hearing range. I tore the drapes down, splintered the bedpost with one swing of my arm,
