Kael's hand hovered over the Haven's doorknob, the late evening's chill biting through his dark tee and jeans.
His hazel eyes narrowed, his ear pressed close to the door to hear for any sound, but silence cloaked the house, heavy, unnatural, like a graveyard's hush.
Something is wrong
Both women roamed free in the Haven, their collars—reapplied before he left, but this quiet...
They could have shut themselves in their rooms, sulking, or worse—one of them could be dead.
His pulse quickened, a mix of anticipation and caution, ready to deliver good news or face chaos.
He strained to listen, his ear stuck to the door, but no clatter, no shouts, only the faint creak of the building settling.
With a steadying breath, he turned the knob, the door groaning open, and a warm, savory aroma enveloped him—garlic, thyme, seared meat, dinner simmering.
No blood or dead body on the floor.
Nice.
"I'm back," Kael called, his voice firm, stepping inside, his boots scuffing the threadbare rug.
