"I've summoned your family," Casian said, his voice slicing through the silence like a blade, snapping Lyra out of her spiraling thoughts. "I'm sure Miranda has already reached out to them."
Lyra's head jerked toward him, brows furrowing. "What do you mean by—"
Her question died as his gaze flicked toward the door—sharp, expectant.
"Darius is here," he murmured.
Instinctively, Lyra slid off his lap, smoothing her clothes and stepping back, cloaking herself in composure as if nothing intimate had passed between them.
A heartbeat later, the door creaked open.
Darius entered, his presence heavy—coiled tension wrapped in urgency. His eyes flicked to Lyra, then locked onto Casian with grim purpose.
"You're earlier than expected," Casian said, calm but alert.
Darius didn't bother with pleasantries. "We have a situation. Norman and Cecelie… they've fled."
The words struck like a slap.
"What?" Lyra breathed, stepping forward. "Fled? Where? Why?"
