Isla’s POV
I’m still standing outside when the black car pulls into the driveway. For a second, my brain doesn’t register who’s inside—just the headlight reflecting through the dusk, the crunch of gravel, the slow inevitability of arrival. Then the doors open.
Aurora steps out first, composed as ever, her posture immaculate like chaos doesn’t dare touch her. Ronan follows, already scanning the scene with sharp, calculating eyes. Marco comes last, phone still in his hand, jaw tight, expression unreadable. They look like they were interrupted mid-life. Dinner or a meeting. Something normal.
My chest tightens. Because nothing that happened here forty five minutes ago was normal.
Before they arrived, Silas had been staring at me. Not casually or absentmindedly. Staring.
The kind that cr
