Book 2. Chapter 22

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Martha stood outside the door, pressing her hands over her ears, her heart pounding with fear. The crashing sounds from inside the room made everyone in the house freeze in place. Glass shattered, wood splintered, and the echoes of Rican's rage reverberated through the hallways. The maids exchanged worried glances, each too terrified to move or speak.

Inside, Rican was a hurricane of fury. He grabbed a hockey stick, swinging it with all his strength at the nearest glass cabinet. The glass exploded into a shower of shards, scattering across the floor like deadly confetti. His chest heaved with every breath, his face contorted in a mix of rage and despair. He was lost in his own world, consumed by emotions he could no longer control.

Martha's mind flashed back to the first time she had seen him like this. He had been just a boy, standing in the middle of his room, flames licking at the curtains and furniture. His eyes had been wild, unseeing, as he screamed at gho