Keith’s POV

The house was silent after Aurora’s outburst, but it wasn’t a calm silence. It pressed into my ears, heavy and sharp, like a weight hanging over the walls. Even the air felt different, dense, as if every corner of the Packhouse held its breath.

I sat in the study, my back straight, hands locked on the desk. The lamp spread weak light across the wood, barely touching the edges of the room. Papers lay scattered in front of me, but the words on them refused to form into ...