The harrowing silence that smothered the corridor after the isolation door hissed shut felt like a physical weight. Behind the reinforced glass, Evelyn's hysterical laughter echoed—a jagged, grating sound that clawed at Alaric's composure. Her words regarding the cloned DNA of Silas were a razor blade, slicing through the very foundation of his trust.
Alaric stood frozen, his fists clenched until his knuckles turned a ghostly white. His grey eyes were fixed on Anna, burning with a look that was impossible to decipher: a volatile cocktail of wounded pride, simmering rage, and a bottomless, gut-wrenching doubt.
"Alaric... you don't believe her, do you?" Anna whispered, her voice fractured. She took a tentative step toward him, her hand reaching for his arm. "She's lying! She just wants to tear us apart!"
