Ethan had barely taken a step outside when a terrified scream shattered the courtyard.
"Help! The lady! She's up there!"
The servant's voice sent a jolt of ice through his veins. Ethan crossed the threshold before his brain even registered the words. A crowd was already massing in front of the west wing—servants and Lycans staring upward with horrified, pale faces.
Ethan pushed through them, looked up—and his heart stopped dead in his chest.
No.
Hanging over the iron railing of the third-floor balcony was Ruri.
Her entire body was suspended in empty air, her knuckles white as she gripped the iron bars, her feet dangling helplessly above the stone courtyard. She was holding herself up by sheer arm strength alone. If those fingers slipped for half a second, the fall would kill her.
"Ruri!" Ethan's voice tore through the court. "What the hell are you doing?!"
She flinched, her tear-stained face turning down toward him.
