For a moment, everything narrowed to the window.
The night beyond it stretched dark and endless, the cold air slipping through the shattered glass and curling into the room. The two figures stood framed against it, unmoving, their silhouettes sharp against the faint glow of moonlight.
I could feel Elias behind me, close enough that his presence pressed against my back like a shield, but something about him had changed. His arm remained around me, firm and unyielding, yet his gaze—his gaze had sharpened into something I had never quite seen before.
It was not just alertness.
It was anger.
Not loud, not uncontrolled, but quiet and precise, like a blade drawn and held just short of striking. For a brief second, I wondered why. What had they done beyond breaking in? What had he seen that I had not? That would make him this angry.
The two figures did not move.
Neither did we.
[So we doing the silent interrogation, are we host.]
