"Oh no," the innkeeper whispered behind JJ, her voice filled with genuine concern. "The poor man."
JJ's gaze flicked toward the flyer. The man's face was pale, his hands trembling as he handed it over. The innkeeper's eyes widened in recognition, her hands wringing her apron, nervous energy pouring off her in waves. JJ caught sight of the flyer's headline: Lt. Daemon. The image was clear, stamped with a single word—DEAD.
The moment stretched, thick with unspoken tension. JJ's heart lurched in her chest, a thousand thoughts racing through her mind. She turned away from the counter, her fingers tightening around the door handle. Daemon's dead. The realization hit like cold water, cutting through the haze of everything she'd already been grappling with.
