The atmosphere inside Edward Steele's private study was thick with tension. The heavy wooden doors were closed, shutting out the rest of the world. Only the faint ticking of the antique clock on the wall could be heard.
Edward sat behind his grand mahogany desk, his sharp eyes fixed on his son with an unreadable, serious expression. Marcus sat across from him, his back straight, but his fingers subtly tapping against his thigh... a clear sign of his unease.
Edward finally broke the silence, his voice low and grave.
"Pierce was never a problem," he began. "The real problem… is the one who took him. Elyria Voss."
The moment the name left his father's lips, Marcus's eyes widened. A flicker of recognition and something close to fear flashed across his face. He knew exactly who Elyria Voss was.
Seeing that his son had understood the weight of that name, Edward continued.
"Now… do you get the meaning of her involvement?"
