CASSIAN
I moved through the house like a man running out of air. Every room was identical in its emptiness, a hollow shell that made my own boots sound too loud against the floorboards.
I went fast at first, then faster, my shoulders clipping the doorframes as I broke from the hallway into the kitchen, then into the back study.
The place had been torn apart. A heavy oak side table was flipped onto its back, its legs sticking straight up into the air like a dead animal.
Shelves had been cleared with a single, violent sweep, leaving shattered porcelain and broken wine glasses scattered across the rug.
My chest tightened until it felt like the ribs were about to snap, because I knew exactly what that camera had been used for, and I knew who had been holding it.
"Julian!" I shouted.
My voice bounced off the bare walls. The high ceilings took the name and threw it right back to me, completely unchanged, completely unanswered.
