Emma felt the shift the moment he spoke. The quiet authority in his tone tightened something in her chest. Whatever had just happened to her wasn't something he intended to take lightly.
Mrs. Thompson arrived unhurried, but nothing about her felt slow. She entered the lounge with composed certainty, Her gaze found Emma immediately—sharp and perceptive, as if she could see beyond the surface.
Silver threaded her dark hair, and her posture held the quiet strength of some wolf used to being obeyed.
"Sit comfortably, Luna," she said, her voice gentle but firm.
Emma was already seated, yet she adjusted instinctively, her spine straightening under that calm command.
Brandon remained standing behind her, one hand resting on the back of the chair in a gesture that was both protective and restrained. He stood steady behind her—a silent promise she wasn't alone.
"The intruder is dead," he said, his voice low and controlled.
