Burn down Richard Whitaker

Alexander's jaw was clenched so tightly it looked like his teeth would shatter. His mind raced, his heart pounded, but his face remained eerily blank.

"Where is she now?" His voice was low, controlled, but beneath it lay an ocean of rage.

Damien barely reacted. His hands were trembling as he stared blankly at the ground. His entire body was stiff, as if he had been drained of all strength.

"I don't know," he finally admitted, voice hoarse. "I only saw her on a video call with Richard."

Alexander exhaled sharply, pushing his hands through his hair in frustration—only to wince as pain shot through his palm.

"Shit."

Blood was still dripping from his hand, the shattered glass leaving jagged cuts on his skin.

Marcus, who had been silent until now, stood up and grabbed a first aid kit from a nearby cabinet. Without a word, he knelt down beside Alexander and started tending to his wounds.

The silence in the room was suffocating.