Sally's POV
The heavy thud of boots on hardwood jolts me from sleep. Quick, urgent steps echo through the house below, followed by hushed voices that carry an edge of alarm I've never heard before.
My stomach drops. This isn't the usual morning routine.
I slip from bed and grab Karl's hoodie, pulling it over my head as I pad barefoot toward the landing. The air feels electric, charged with tension that makes my skin prickle. Fragments of conversation drift up from downstairs.
"...found it in the water," someone says. "Dick's on his way."
Ice floods my veins.
By the time I reach the kitchen, Karl stands at the counter, his bare chest rigid with tension. Philip paces like a caged animal. Ajax leans against the doorframe to the porch, his dark hair still damp, a towel draped around his neck. Sean works at the coffee maker with mechanical precision.
All four pairs of eyes find me immediately.