"Mom?"
Anthony's voice cracked on the word.
Not anger.
Not even fear.
Something smaller.
Younger.
The kind of disbelief that came from realizing the monster under the bed had been invited in by someone who used to tuck you into it.
For one breath, no one moved.
The phone lay on the wet concrete, cracked screen glowing upward while Martha Morrison's voice hung through the warehouse speakers like poison.
Is it done?
Allison stared at the phone.
Then at Anthony.
Then at Lucian.
"Oh," she said softly. "That family tree is rotten from the roots."
Dorian Kreel smiled like he'd been waiting for exactly that silence.
Anthony stumbled one step toward the phone. "Mom?"
The line went quiet for half a second.
Then Martha's voice changed.
Not enough for panic.
Enough for realization.
"Anthony?"
He looked sick. "What did you do?"
