Lisa’s POV

The dishes were still clinking faintly in the sink when Ronan stood up, chair legs scraping the floor in that decisive alpha way he always did things. His expression was sharp, already distant, like his head was two steps ahead of us, plotting the next move.

“Damon,” he said, voice calm but commanding, “let’s go.”

Go? Go where? My brain scrambled. And then it hit me—oh no no no no no—

“Wait, wait, hold on.” I pushed up so fast my chair nearly tipped. “Go? As in—leave leave? Right now?? Without—without me??”

Ronan barely even looked at me. Just grabbed his coat off the back of the chair...