Isabella Hawthorne
It was the fifth day. Five days since Damien had taken up residence in the manor, five days since the whole… schedule thingy. As I sat perched on a stool in the pantry, nursing a steaming cup of tea, the sheer volume of events felt overwhelming. Even the early morning light seemed to shimmer with unspoken tension.
The silence was broken only by the soft clinking of porcelain against wood as I stirred my tea. Well, almost complete silence. There, in the corner of the pantry, stood a Capitol guard, an ever-present fixture since my little episode. The man, perpetually clad in his dark uniform, seemed to defy the laws of nature. I swear, the guy hadn't blinked in 72 hours. Gods, even vampires needed sleep, but this guy… He just stood there, an immovable sentinel, watching
