Morning came without mercy.
It slid through the mansion in pale ribbons of light, touching marble floors and cold walls that had witnessed too much violence to ever feel warm. The night had not softened anything—it had only exposed the fractures beneath the surface, the ones that bled quietly until they could no longer be ignored.
Vinny hadn't slept.
He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, fingers laced together so tightly his knuckles ached. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Aiden's face—pale, unmoving, wires and machines doing the work his body no longer could. Every time he inhaled, his chest tightened with the same thought:
Years.
Matthew stood a few steps away, watching him in silence.
He hadn't slept either. The anger had burned itself down to embers, leaving behind something worse—fear. Fear wasn't something Matthew Reves allowed himself to feel. Fear made people careless. Fear made people weak.
