The next morning unfolded under a pale gold sky, the kind that promised heat long before the sun reached its peak. Lara returned to Isla at the side of Randell Belmont, her presence calm but deliberate, as though she already knew this visit would stir more than dust.
Ares did not join them.
An urgent meeting had claimed his morning, and the incident with the snake the day before had left threads he refused to ignore.
If something had slipped into his mansion unnoticed, he intended to find out how—and why.
So it was only Lara and Asher who accompanied the old man this time, their small group quieter, but no less purposeful.
Shay had tried to change that.
Again and again, she had tugged at the hem of Lara's white blouse, her bright eyes pleading, her voice relentless with hope. She wanted to come, to see Isla, to be part of whatever secret world the adults seemed to guard so carefully. But Lara had not wavered. Her refusal was gentle, but firm.
