From a distance, Mark could see smoke rising into the sky. Latros Manor was burning.
He stood at the abandoned dock far from the estate, the baby secured in his arms while the ocean wind carried the sharp, fishy smell of salt and rot.
He had always disliked the scent of the sea, but now he did not have the luxury to care. He did not know how long they had before someone tracked him down.
Bennet remained quiet in his arms, strangely calm despite the chaos unfolding behind them.
Around the dock, civilians whispered and panicked, pointing at the smoke in the distance and speculating about enemy attacks or internal conflict. None of them knew the truth.
Mark closed his eyes briefly and took a steady breath. This morning had been the last time he would ever see Flynn and Bella alive.
He had never been a warm man. He was rigid, logical, distant. There were no tender memories between the three of them, no laughter over shared meals, no comforting gestures.
