Verret’s Pov

Two days.

It had been two damn days since she’d stepped into my home, and she’d barely said more than five sentences to me.

I’d been told silence was peaceful. Whoever said that clearly never had Delilah under the same roof. Her silence wasn’t peaceful; it was thunder waiting for a place to strike.

I’d rather she yelled at me, slammed a door, or threw one of those daggered words she was good at. But this… quiet? It was maddening.

And the irony?

I preferred her temper.

At least when she was angry, she looked at me.

This morning, I heard her moving around upstairs, the sharp drag...