Theron’s POV
The grand mansion, usually alive with the soft murmur of conversations and the rhythmic footsteps of its inhabitants, was now cloaked in an unnerving silence.
It was the kind of silence that pressed against your eardrums, a heavy, suffocating stillness that made every deliberate breath feel like a jarring intrusion into the hushed sanctity of the night. Moonlight, sharp and silver, sliced through the towering, arched windows, casting elongated, dancing shadows that writhed across the age-old, polished stone floors, turning familiar hallways into corridors of spectral mystery. Yet, despite the pervasive stillness that gripped the very bones of the building, a violent storm of emotion, a tempest of possessive fury and simmering jealousy, brewed within the confines of my own being, mirrored in the tense silence of my brothers.
I stood just outside Elowen’s bedroom door, the heavy oak panel left slightly ajar, a sliver of warm light escaping into the cool hallway. Her soft,
