Frankie:
The house felt like a tomb. Silent. Stifling. The kind of silence that was louder than any storm could be.
I could hear it—the wind battering the windows like it was desperate to get in. The kind of wind that made the whole house shudder, creaking in protest. But I didn't care about the storm. Not right now.
What I cared about was the storm inside me—the confusion, the fear, the nagging feeling that something was terribly, horribly wrong.
I paused at the bottom of the stairs, my fingers resting on the banister, feeling the pulse of the house beneath my skin. It was almost as if the walls themselves were alive—alive with secrets I wasn't sure I wanted to uncover.
The triplets would be safe in Diathorne, but the weight of their absence felt more suffocating than the storm. It w
