Atlas – First Person POV
The ticking of the grandfather clock filled the silence like a slow drip of poison. I sat on the edge of the leather couch in the sitting room, hands clasped together so tightly my knuckles whitened. My father’s summons had been sudden, and sudden with him never meant casual.
I tried to steady my breathing, tried to sit as if I belonged here, but my nerves betrayed me.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the hall. Heavy, measured. My father’s, I thought. Relief flickered in me—until the door opened, and instead of his tall figure, I saw him.
Jace.
Trailing behind Father like he owned the right to follow, his stride confident, his face calm, as though this house had been built for him alone.
My chest tightened. Of course. Why had I even assumed otherwise?
Maybe,
