Page 217 of Altius

Ducking past Wyatt, I rushed back into the foyer to grab my bag. I’d just pulled out my phone when the front door beeped, and the deadbolt slid back.

Turning, I expected to see unkempt sandy hair and circular glasses. Not cropped black hair with silver at the temples and sleek wireframes.

Something about Owen’s demeanor sent a chill through me.

He didn’t look any different than usual, wearing well-pressed suit pants and a crisp black dress shirt, but there was a heaviness in his gaze that made it feel leaden, almost tinged with dread.

“What happened?” Wyatt asked, slipping an arm around my waist.

Owen’s mouth flattened into a disapproving line. He straightened his glasses before speaking.

“It’s a temporary delay,” he said. “Kept private, per his request, until you returned. He didn’t want to ruin the weekend.”

My pulse began to race, overloaded veins pressing against the too-tight confines of my skull.

I already knew what Owen was going to say—but I didn’t want to hear it. Because it would change everything. I was already reeling.

And I wanted to spare Cal any more heartbreak.

Owen was never one to pull his punches.

“Charles the First passed away Friday evening.”