"Young master, the young madam is…" Treyond's voice faltered, uncertainty choking his words as he stood hesitantly at the door, his eyes struggling to adjust to the thick darkness that cloaked the room. He swallowed hard, his heart pounding louder with every second of silence.
His gaze darted around nervously, trying to locate his master in the heavy shadows. A shiver traced down his spine. Why is the room so dark at this hour? The question echoed in his mind, but he dared not say it aloud.
"Where is my wife, Treyond?" Shane's voice emerged from the darkness—cold, hard, and controlled, yet laced with something dangerous, something seething underneath.
Treyond's throat tightened. "She… she's leaving, sir. Her luggage is already in the trunk of the car and—"
