Chapter 47 Convergence

• The study was steeped in shadows, the late afternoon sun filtering through heavy blinds and casting fractured light across the room. The scent of old books mingled with the faint tang of salt carried on the sea breeze, but the air inside was heavy, suffocating.
• Lachlan stood behind his imposing oak desk, a figure carved from granite, while Clara lingered by the window, her silhouette fragile and waif-like against the glow. Quinn hovered near the doorway, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her mind caught in a tangle of questions she couldn’t yet untangle.
• Lachlan’s voice cut through the silence, low and sharp. “Start at the beginning. How were you kept from me? Why didn’t I know you existed?”