*Isla*

Our room is… plain, but I am not too bothered. Framed oil paintings hang on the stone walls, and the smell of cleaner is sharp and acrid in the air. A fireplace takes up the far wall, and a simple, gray rug covers the stone pavers lining the floor.

Again, I wonder how old this place is, and who may have lived here before Maddox bought it.

I let out my breath, still tired from the journey and aching from being cramped in a car for what felt like hours. It's not musty or dark in the room, which is a miracle sent by the Goddess herself after spending...