The house was quiet when they returned.

My father had gone to bed early after a long day of meetings. I heard his bedroom door close just after ten. Twenty minutes later the soft click of the back door told me they were here.

I was already waiting in my room, heart hammering, wearing nothing but one of Cassian’s shirts that I had stolen from the guest room earlier. The fabric still smelled like him—woodsmoke and something darker—and it barely reached mid-thigh.

Cassian entered first. Dominic and Rhett followed, closing the door quietly behind them. The lock turned with a soft snick.

No one spoke at first.

Cassian’s eyes moved...