"Thorne! Goddammit, Thorne, step away from the homeowner! Do not touch her! I repeat, stand down immediately! You are at the residence of the United States Attorney! Step back!"
The radio transmission echoed loudly across the Gothic estate. The words hit Thorne like physical blows from a heavy iron club. His thick hands began to shake uncontrollably. He looked from the radio, to the federal agents standing in the mist, and finally back to the woman on the porch.
Elara Vance, the Gothic Matriarch, the Sovereign of Blackwood, and the highest-ranking federal prosecutor in the state, looked down at him. She did not raise her voice. She did not need to threaten him with cuffs. She simply raised her silver teacup to her lips, took a slow, elegant sip of her tea, and watched the man who had just destroyed his entire life crumble under the crushing weight of her silent authority.