"Oh no," Isabella whispered, eyes still locked on Kian's face like she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her panic. "Tsk, you're the worse." She pushed her lower lip out in a full, dramatic pout, the kind that usually got her exactly what she wanted. Not today, apparently.
"Hmph." That small offended sound came from Glimora first—sharp and tiny—before the little beast turned away too, copying her mama's attitude like a mirror with fur. Ears tipped back. Tail flick. Disapproval in miniature.
Isabella dragged in a breath to argue more, then slowly twisted her head toward the door. And froze. Ophelia and Luca stood there like two carved statues that had accidentally learned how to gape. Ophelia's mouth was open. Luca's eyebrows were somewhere near the ceiling. The light from the hall framed them both, throwing their shock into clear relief. It wasn't a quiet entrance. It was an ambush by silence.
