Isla’s POV
Night fell heavily over Silverfang.
The mansion felt too large once the staff retreated and the halls emptied. Every sound echoed longer than it should have. The wind outside rattled the tall windows, carrying snowflakes that brushed against the glass like fingers tapping, curious and persistent. I sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped in my lap, replaying the tea again and again in my mind. Every look. Every pause. Every moment I had spoken without thinking.
I knew Chase would come.
He always did when something went wrong.
The door opened quietly, but his presence filled the room instantly. He closed it behind him and stood still for a moment, shoulders tense, as if choosing his words carefully. The moonlight cut across his face, highlighting the tight line of his jaw.
