The morning dawned slowly, as if even the day itself hesitated to touch that place. Light streamed through the broken windows of the mansion in irregular beams, illuminating particles of dust suspended in the air and mercilessly revealing everything that had not yet been repaired. The cracked walls, the destroyed furniture, the floor marked by deep fissures and stains that would not disappear with mere physical effort. The silence, heavy and almost awkward, seemed to respect what had happened there the previous night, as if any louder sound could reopen something that had barely begun to heal.
Damon was in the middle of it all.
