Third Person’s POV

Dean sat at the kitchen table, his legs swinging slowly beneath the chair as he stared at the mug of hot chocolate in front of him. Grandma had made it just the way he liked it, with extra marshmallows floating on top, but he hadn’t touched it yet. Across from him, Daniella sat curled into herself, her hands wrapped tightly around her own mug, her eyes fixed on nothing in particular.

The house was warm, safe, and quiet. Too quiet.

Outside, snow continued to fall ...