The Dravik mansion had always been quiet, but tonight the silence possessed a predatory weight. It was the kind of stillness that felt like a held breath, as if the very walls were waiting for a heart to stop beating. Amara paced the length of the grand living room, her fingers twisting the hem of her oversized cashmere cardigan until her knuckles were ghost-white.
"He should have been back by now," Amara whispered, her voice a fragile thing that seemed to be swallowed by the shadows of the vaulted ceiling. "Why isn't he back, Felira?"
"The Master does not keep a human's schedule, Miss Hayes. He is likely ensuring the loose ends are tied so tightly they can never unravel again."
Amara turned to find Felira standing by the hearth. The snake beastman hadn't moved for nearly an hour, her amber eyes fixed on the dying embers of the fire. She looked like a statue carved from obsidian and silk, her presence the only thing keeping Amara from spiraling into a full-blown panic.
