The wind outside howled like a banshee, a chilling reminder that death waited just beyond the fortified walls. The mansion, a beacon of warmth and safety in the icy apocalypse, stood resilient, but inside, tension crackled like a live wire. Daniel's fingers brushed against the console, his eyes darting over each surveillance feed. The events of the past few days had stripped him of any illusion of control, and Brad's betrayal left a bitter taste in his mouth that hadn't faded.
Claire stood by the frosted window, a silent sentry. Her posture was tense, muscles taut beneath her winter jacket as if she could lunge through the glass at any moment. Her eyes were narrowed, glancing from the endless expanse of snow to Daniel, her gaze flickering with that familiar, possessive gleam. He could feel her vigilance wrapping around him like an iron chain, part comfort, part confinement.
