–Livana–
I glanced at my son. He was still clutching his baby bottle, staring at the screen with innocent curiosity.
"Wat dat?" he asked, pointing.
Jane quickly scooped him into her arms.
"Let's go over here and watch something else," she said gently.
Relief washed over me like a quiet tide. I listened as Jane began singing softly with Sky somewhere in the background while I returned to work.
We are safe. For now.
But then they attempted to damage the bars again.
Logan stood near the bedroom window, assessing the impact outside. On my laptop, the grid of surveillance feeds displayed every angle of the manor—each square a pulse of vigilance. The estate looked calm from above, almost serene, as if violence had not brushed its gates.
My husband was downstairs—directly beneath our bedroom—waiting. Ready. Anyone who dared breach that wall again would not leave breathing.
