Calla’s POV
The package arrived just as the sun was rising, brought by a courier who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. There was no return address, no delivery confirmation—just a small wooden box wrapped in black silk that seemed to scream “bad news.”
I was still groggy, wearing one of Kane’s oversized shirts and enjoying my first cup of coffee when the knock on the door shattered the morning silence. Kane opened the door, and his entire stance shifted to alert as soon as he glimpsed what the courier was carrying.
“For Calla Reyes,” the courier said, nearly pushing the box into Kane’s hands before hurrying back to his vehicle, as if he understood exactly what he was delivering.
We all gathered in the living room—me, Kane, Luna, and Jake—staring at the box as if it were a tick
