By the time Ethan and Marco pulled up to the Moretti house, dusk had settled over campus. The street was quiet, the air heavy with the sound of cicadas, but the house itself hummed with life.
Ethan killed the engine, and Mia hopped out of the back seat, tossing her hair over her shoulder like she hadn't just been dragged away from her friends.
"You two are the worst," she complained, slamming the car door. "You embarrassed me in front of everyone."
Marco smirked, swinging his keys lazily around his finger. "Correction: we saved you from wasting your time."
Mia shot him a glare, then turned to Ethan. "And you? You just stand there looking all silent and intimidating, and I'm supposed to thank you?"
Ethan's expression barely shifted, but the corner of his mouth curved slightly. "You're welcome."
The front door opened before Mia could retort, and a couple of the boys inside looked up. The smell of pasta sauce drifted out, along with the sound of laughter and the clatter of cards being shuffled on the coffee table.
The Moretti house was alive tonight—her cousins lounging across the couches, music playing low, the familiar undercurrent of weapons and deals tucked just beneath the surface.
Mia brushed past them, kicking off her shoes. "I'm starving. Don't tell me you animals didn't leave anything."
"Check the kitchen," one of the cousins called. "But don't blame us if Dante's already eaten it all."
She rolled her eyes and disappeared down the hallway.
Marco flopped onto the couch, immediately dealing himself into the card game. Ethan, however, lingered near the doorway, gaze following Mia until she vanished from sight. She had no idea how much her brother worried—how many times Dante had pressed them to keep her close whenever things got tense in the streets.
But Mia belonged in both worlds: the laughter of her dorm, and the shadows of this house.
And Ethan, watching the way the room shifted when she entered, couldn't shake the feeling that one day, those worlds would collide.