MORRIS’S POV Moonlight cut through the narrow gap between the heavy velvet curtains and fell across the quilt in a single, unyielding stripe, like a blade laid flat and waiting. I stared at it until my eyes ached, willing the silver line to creep, to blur, to prove the night was still crawling forward. It refused. The room held its breath, Sharon’s slow, even breathing beside me, the faint groan of old timbers settling deeper into the earth, the far-off hoot of an owl that carried too much weight to be casual. Every sound felt deliberate, as though the house itself were listening.But sleep wouldn’t come. Every time my eyelids dropped, Sandra was there, teeth bared in that feral, laughing snarl from the summit hall. The way her voice cracked on Sharon’s name, not in grief but in promise. The absolute conviction in her eyes as the chains yanked her backward: this isn’t the end, it’s only intermission. I could still see the precise angle of her head when she spat the words “sister” l
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