HELENA POV
When I finally managed to pull myself together and walk into the dining room, I knew immediately that something was wrong.
Not loud wrong. Not obvious chaos or raised voices or tension thick enough to choke on. This was the quiet kind of wrong. The kind that sat under the surface and waited for you to notice it.
Garrett was standing near the table, posture relaxed but attention completely locked on Amaranta. He acknowledged me with a polite nod and a brief, “Nice to see you again, Helena,” before his focus snapped right back to her like I had never existed.
Which, on its own, wouldn’t have been strange. We’ve neve been more than acquaintances, and Amaranta made head turns each time.
Except Amaranta was rigid, and she was never rigid. She was kind, and also scary when she w
