ADRIAN
The drive home felt longer than any war I’d ever fought.
Isabella stayed on my lap the entire time, curled into me like she was trying to disappear inside my chest. I didn’t let go of her. Not once. My arms stayed locked around her, one hand on her back, the other cradling the back of her head. Every few minutes, I pressed a kiss somewhere — her hair, her temple, her cheek — because I needed to feel her warm and alive.
She didn’t speak.
Her silence was a language I understood better than words.
By the time we reached the house, she was trembling from exhaustion. I carried her inside, past the guards, past the lights, past everything that wasn’t her. I didn’t turn on the overheads — just the soft lamps. She’d had enough harshness for one night.
I set her gently on the bed, but
