Benedict's POV
The bathroom door sealed shut behind me with a soft click. I stood in the sudden quiet, letting the silence wrap around me like an old friend. The chaos downstairs was contained now. Kaelen had his wounded omega. Daphne nursed her shattered hands and wounded pride, along with an unexpected ally in me.
And I had exactly what I came for.
My fingers slipped into my jacket pocket, finding the handkerchief first. The outer layer was pristine white cotton. I pulled it out slowly, feeling the weight of what lay wrapped inside. The inner cloth told a different story. Crimson stained the fabric, not by design but by perfect opportunity.
I unfolded it with careful precision. The material was still damp, still warm. Fresh blood carried a distinct scent. Metallic and sharp, with an almost sweet undertone if you knew what to look for.
Lyra's blood.
