AVA'S POV
The house was too quiet.
I paced the hallway, my arms wrapped tightly around myself as if I could somehow squeeze out the fear. The windows were shut. The curtains drawn. Outside, the wind whispered through the trees like it knew something I didn't.
Marco had told me Ethan was safe. That Carl was in custody. That the plan worked.
But then why was I still trembling?
A kettle hissed on the stove, I had no memory of putting it there. I moved to turn it off, but my hand hovered. My heart was with Ethan. Out there. Somewhere between danger and vengeance.
A war had ended, but a darker one had begun.
He said we're coming home.
But would he be the same man who left?
Footsteps approached from the front door. I rushed to it, just as it opened.
And there he was.
His face shadowed, his coat streaked with dirt and blood, but his eyes those familiar eyes met mine with the gentleness I feared he had lost.
I ran into his arms.
