[Office—Private Room]
Kalix gently guided Winter to sit on the edge of the bed. Her fingers remained clenched in the fabric of his coat, her wide eyes staring into nothingness—haunted, hollow.
Her mind was still frozen, paralyzed by the brutal truth that Diana was gone. Murdered. And she had been powerless to stop it.
Her gaze dropped slowly to her hands. Though the blood was no longer visible on her skin, she could still feel it—sticky, metallic, shameful. The scent clung to her, phantom-like, embedding itself in her memory. A sickening reminder that she had been there. That she had seen it.
Her hands began to tremble and she quickly balled them into a fist.
Kalix, who had been watching her in silence, moved without hesitation. The moment he saw her shivering, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against his chest.
