The wind outside rattled the front door frame, a soft warning as if the night itself understood that the moment waiting on the threshold was fragile — more dangerous than any gunfire, more volatile than any enemy’s plan. Inside the foyer of the Carver estate, the air felt too thick to breathe, the polished floorboards creaking under the weight of unspoken dread. The four men and one woman — her brothers, him, and herself — stood in a tense semicircle that bridged loyalty, fury, fear, and fragile hope.For a long breathless moment, nobody spoke.Liana’s heart hammered in her chest, each beat echoing louder than the last. Outside, the world held its breath too.Then Viktor — pale, wounded, defiant — drew in a slow, steady breath, leaning slightly forward in his wheelchair, hand pressed over his side where the bandages lay hidden beneath a dark coat. His eyes, dark and cautious, flickered first to her, then to her brothers. His voice came low, almost solemn, but strong in its clarity.“T
Última actualización : 2025-12-04 Leer más