Third Person P.O.V.
The room was cloaked in a cold stillness, the kind that arrived only after midnight when the world seemed to hold its breath. Inside the candlelit chamber, Veronica paced like a caged tigress, her heels clicking sharply against the black marble floor of Diane's sanctum. The metallic scent of blood, herbs, and smoldering sage hung thick in the air.
Veronica's phone lay idle on the table, the call with Caleb long ended, but its aftertaste still lingered in her mouth like venom. Her eyes glinted with fury.
"He's with her," she finally said aloud, her voice venom-laced. "He has to be. That little b***h is hiding him."
Diane, calm as ever in her midnight-blue robes, raised a brow. "We don’t have confirmation yet. You may be right, but assumptions are dangerous."
Veronic
