Isla’s POV
Dinner stretches longer than it needs to. That’s the first thing I notice.
The second is how carefully everyone avoids looking at me for too long.
Marco joins the table first, his presence filling the room without effort. He doesn’t say much at first—just a nod, a brief smile, the quiet authority of a man who owns the walls we’re sitting inside. Ronan comes in right after him, all relaxed shoulders and sharp eyes, sliding into a seat like he belongs everywhere and nowhere at once.
Then Teo appears later, unhurried, like he took his time deciding whether to show up at all.
By then, the table is full.
Too full.
Silas is already engaged in quiet conversation with Teo, their heads inclined toward each other like old familiarity. Isabella has shifted closer to Aurora, their
