Zayne’s POV
My heart starts pounding harder.
“Isla?” I repeated, voice low, rough from sleep.
She doesn’t answer, that’s when I realize something is wrong. Her posture is strange. A cold sensation crawls down my spine. She’s not awake.
I’ve seen sleepwalking before. My mother used to do it sometimes when I was a kid, wandering down the hallway at three in the morning like her mind had forgotten where her body was.
Isla tilts her head slightly, like she’s listening to something far away.
My jaw tightens. Slowly, I approach her like you would approach a wild animal.
“Isla,” I say again, softer.
Still nothing. Her eyes are open, but they’re empty. Not seeing me or the room. She’s somewhere else.
“There was blood,” she murmurs again.
My stomach twists.The words hit something deep in
