26
The villa was quiet, almost too quiet, in the early hours of the morning. The adrenaline from the night's chaos had faded, leaving a strange mixture of exhaustion, relief, and lingering tension in its place. Emma slept soundly in her little pink bed, the soft rise and fall of her chest a small reassurance that she was truly safe.
Even in sleep, Emma's body held traces of tension—one arm curled protectively around her pillow, her brow faintly furrowed as if the memory of fear had not yet loosened its grip. Safety had returned, but peace was still finding its way back.
Adrian sat heavily on the edge of the sofa, head in his hands, the weight of the past days pressing down on him. Elena sat beside him, her hand brushing his arm gently. "You need to breathe, Adrian," she whispered, voice calm but soft with concern.
