grown accustomed to their distant rhythm hours ago. It was the wards themselves, shimmering almost imperceptibly along the estate's boundary before settling again, a disturbance so brief that anyone else would have dismissed it as nothing. Dorian didn't. His expression hardened. "...Impossible."
He turned his head toward the eastern sky, where the rotor blades had taken on a different cadence now—closer, and no longer wandering, but searching with purpose.
Unease settled beneath his ribs, a feeling he hadn't experienced in centuries. He looked at Dakota. She was watching him, and though her wrists remained firmly within his grasp and exhaustion still lined her face, something quietly triumphant had crept into her eyes. She had felt the change too. "You felt it too," she said softly. It wasn't a question.
