CHAPTER 91 The Lines We Cross

　　The drive to Edmund's house stretched out in silence, the tension between them almost tangible. Angela sat in the passenger seat, her arms wrapped around herself as if to ward off the thoughts swirling in her mind as the city lights flickered past. She could feel Edmund's occasional glances, but neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the hum of the engine and the rhythmic clicking of the blinker as they turned onto quieter, more secluded streets.

　　They arrived in a neighborhood that seemed to exist outside of time, where the noise of the city gave way to stillness and privacy. Tall trees lined the road, their branches reaching overhead to form a canopy that filtered the glow of the streetlights. Edmund's house came into view, a sleek, modern structure bathed in soft golden light. It stood apart from the neighboring mansions, its minimalist design exuding both power and mystery.