Archie walked up the stairs, his arms cradled around Avery while Emma followed closely behind, clutching her sister's heels and bag, her steps quick but quiet. The doctor, a tall man with a trimmed beard and steady hands, moved ahead of them with calm urgency.
Below, at the foot of the stairs, Grandpa McCallum stood unmoving, his sharp eyes fixed on the group. His cane tapped once against the marble floor as he observed them disappear up the winding stairs, his expression a mask of grim silence. He hadn't spoken an extra word since Archie stepped into the manor cradling his unconscious granddaughter and all his questions—Where was she? What happened? Why is she unconscious? Who did this?—had been met with the same cold refusal:
"Don't worry about her. I have the situation under control."
