ROU'S POV
The Mira home was too quiet.
Even the wind did not dare whisper through its old wooden bones, as if the house itself knew what was coming and chose silence over false comfort. The air smelled of herbal oils, salt, and something older like the breath of the mountain itself had slipped through the barrier, curling at the edges of the stone-tiled floor.
I paced the rear veranda, jaw tight, hands flexing uselessly at my sides. The moon hung low, half-veiled in mist. Just enough light to feel exposed. Not enough to feel safe.
"Rou."
Dante's voice came from behind me, low and familiar. He leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, casual in posture but sharp in the eyes.
"You're twitching again," he added, stepping out into the open air beside me.
"Didn't know I had a twitch," I muttered.
"You do not. Not unless you are thinking too hard about someone getting killed."
I did not answer. The Mira homes wrapped around us like fog.
