Chapter 59

• Calling this dinner a meal felt like a stretch. In reality, it was nothing more than a protein bar and a bottle of water—standard emergency rations.
• Under normal circumstances, the estate’s kitchen staff would have prepared something decent. Now that Rafael’s team had taken over, they could have easily whipped up something warm—a bowl of soup, maybe even a sandwich. But it was late, and asking them to go out of their way for me felt unnecessary. Still, someone had left a pot of hot tea, a small kindness that helped chase away the lingering chill in my bones.
• The guest room they had set up for me was functional but far from luxurious. The furniture was minimal, and while the blankets stacked on the bed were thick, they carried the unmistakable stiffness of something well-used. When I ran my fingers over one, I noticed faint, dark stains. Not just dirt. Blood. Old, but there nonetheless.