The house was quiet when they returned.
My father had gone to bed early after a long day of meetings. I heard his bedroom door close just after ten. Twenty minutes later the soft click of the back door told me they were here.
I was already waiting in my room, heart hammering, wearing nothing but one of Cassian’s shirts that I had stolen from the guest room earlier. The fabric still smelled like him—woodsmoke and something darker—and it barely reached mid-thigh.
Cassian entered first. Dominic and Rhett followed, closing the door quietly behind them. The lock turned with a soft snick.
No one spoke at first.
Cassian’s eyes moved over me slowly, taking in the way the shirt hung off one shoulder and the fresh bruises still visible on my thighs. His expression darkened with approval.
“You
