(Third POV)
The snow had softened by dusk.
Not melting — just settling. Like the world, too, had learned to breathe more carefully since morning.
The sky over Vince Kho's mountain villa had shifted into something delicate — lavender melting into soft coral, pale gold brushing against the far horizon as if the sun itself was reluctant to leave. From the balcony, Jeff could see the slope curling downward into untouched drifts, glowing faintly like powdered light. The air was cool, crisp. Quiet.
Too quiet.
