ETHAN'S POV
The moment Marco shut the door behind us, I scanned the room out of habit. One exit. A narrow hallway leading to the back. No cameras. No mirrors. I noted it all.
Ava stood still by the fireplace, arms crossed, her eyes following me without a word. She always watched me like that, like she was trying to read the words I never said out loud.
I poured a glass of water instead of the whiskey Marco offered me. My throat was dry, but it wasn't from thirst. It was from restraint. Rage sat heavy in my chest, burning like coal.
Carl had touched what was mine.
And I was going to burn down everything he ever loved for it.
"Do you trust him?" Ava asked, her voice soft, like she was tiptoeing around something dangerous.
I met her eyes. "No. But I trust what he wants."
She didn't respond. She just nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. Ava didn't waste time on panic or tears anymore. She calculated now, like me. Like she'd finally stopped hoping the world would be kind.
