The silence was louder than the gunshot. It was a dense, suffocating blanket that pressed down on my eardrums, filling my head with a high, unnatural pitch—the sound of profound shock overriding all other senses. My father’s weight was the only thing anchoring me to the marble floor, his stillness the terrible, final confirmation of Damon’s wicked victory.

I looked down at his face, framed by my blood-soaked gown. His eyes were wide, clear, and focused on the ceiling, fixed forever on the ...