Smith's POV.

I drove home in silence.

The roads blurred past. My hands stayed glued to the steering wheel, knuckles tight, every joint stiff. Marcus’s voice replayed in my head like a broken tape. Over and over and over.

“You sure that’s stress? Or are you being played?”

It made my stomach churn.

The closer I got to the house, the heavier the air felt. The sky was already dark, the kind of grey-black that felt more like a warning than a backdrop. As I pulled into the driveway, the porch light was on...but every other light in the house looked off.

That was the first red flag.

Petunia didn’t...