By the time Winter returned, the air inside the room had turned suffocatingly silent — so heavy it made her pause in the doorway. Her brows furrowed in confusion, her pulse quickening as her eyes landed on Kalix.
He stood near the window, half-shielded by the curtain's shadow, his posture stiff and unmoving. The grim look carved across his face sent a shiver crawling down her spine. His hand gripped his phone so tightly, she could almost hear the faint creak of straining plastic.
Something was wrong. Deeply, undeniably wrong.
Her stomach knotted, unease slithering through her, coiling tighter with every second of silence that stretched on. She opened her mouth to ask — but before she could, his voice cut through the stillness, low and hoarse.
"Grandpa dropped Dianna's case," he said, the words clipped and sharp, like shards of glass. His teeth clenched, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he struggled to leash his anger.
For a heartbeat, Winter couldn't breathe.
