Outside, the city carried on like nothing had changed. Inside the car, something delicate had cracked—something that couldn’t be ignored anymore.
Ethan sat quietly in the back seat, his small frame pressed into the leather as if he wanted to disappear. His eyes fixed on nothing in particular.
Daniel glanced at him in the rearview mirror, noticing how the boy avoided sudden movements, as if even the air itself could hurt him.
He wanted to say something—offer reassurance, make a promise—but words felt dangerous now, like stepping onto thin ice that might give way at any moment.
Instead, he cleared his throat softly and asked, almost like it was nothing:
“Does she ever… leave marks where people can see them?”
Ethan hesitated, then slowly shook his head, his fingers lacing together in his lap—a nervous habit Daniel had never noticed before.
“He says… it has to be where no one can see,” the boy whispered, barely louder than the hum of the engine.
The words lingered heavily in the air, carrying a quiet cruelty that made Daniel tighten his grip on the wheel.
They reached the gates of the estate—tall, imposing, the kind meant to promise safety to outsiders and silence to those within.