At that moment, upon hearing the words behind him, Festus froze completely. The color drained from his face, his chest tightened, and his fingers trembled against the arms of the chair. That voice deep, commanding, and sharp enough to slice through the air was one he could never mistake. It was the voice of his elder brother, Cora's father.
Immediately, panic washed over him like a wave. His instincts screamed to turn around, to defend himself, to come up with a lie that might save his skin, but the ropes binding him were too tight. Even his body betrayed him; his muscles stiffened in fear, and his throat went dry.
Clinton, still weak on the floor, recognized that same voice too. Even with blood staining his lips and the dull ache on his swollen face, he managed to lift his head slightly, eyes widening as the realization struck him—his uncle was here, but how, how did that actually happen.
