Page 11 of Isaia

“Look,” Alexius starts firmly, “we’re not saying you’re compromised. But if she turns out to be anything more than ‘just a girl,’ we can’t afford to be blindsided. Is that clear?”

I nod, the itch of something incomplete—unfinished—sinking deeper, pulling me back toward her.

“Good,” Alexius says, and something about the way he studies me suggests he’s not entirely convinced. “Then find out everything about her, and remember, no loose ends.”

Nicoli’s voice is light as he shifts, though his gaze is cold. “You think she’s boring, huh? Better make sure of that before she brings trouble to our doorstep.”

“Trust me, I will,” I say, though even now, I feel that strange, unshakable tension, like something between us was left unresolved.

“Find out everything there is to know about this woman.”

I stare at the drink in my hand, thinking of the girl sitting on her porch swing. “That’s the plan, brother. That’s the plan.”

Chapter 4

EVERLY

Iwake up to something warm and wet smothering my cheek.

My eyes flutter open, and there’s Luna, my overzealous basset hound, tongue out, determined to lick me into consciousness.

“Ew, Luna, seriously?” I groan, gently nudging her away. “It’s too early for your brand of enthusiasm.”

She whines softly, her tail thumping rhythmically against the bed, like she thinks she’s doing me a huge favor. As if slobbery dog kisses are part of some heroic morning ritual.

“I don’t owe you a thing,” I mutter, wiping my face with the sheet, already planning to swap it out for fresh ones later.

Luna moves and promptly decides that sitting on me is the next best way to start the day. Not beside me. Not at my feet. On me.

All fifty-five pounds of stubborn basset hound plops directly onto my stomach like she’s making some grand statement.

“Really?” I huff, laughing despite myself. Her droopy eyes give me that pitiful look—fake innocence at its finest—like she’s completely unaware that she’s crushing my lungs.

I wriggle beneath her, pushing against what feels like a very determined sack of potatoes.

“Okay, fine, you win.” I flop back, officially defeated.

She shifts her weight slightly, but it’s clear—Luna’s not moving anytime soon.

As I lie there, pinned by my dog, my mind drifts back to yesterday and my run-in with him.

Isaia.

Who trips over a dog leash?

Someone like Isaia, apparently—dark, brooding, like he belongs in some kind of mob movie. And there he was, wrapped in Luna’s leash like some absurd yet amusing irony.

I smile at the memory.

His face, though—he looked like Luna had just cursed him with some incurable disease. Meanwhile, I was rolling on the grass, laughing like it was the most hilarious thing I’d seen in weeks.

Isaia, serious and stiff, and me, finding it hilarious. Talk about opposites.

Apparently thinking her job here is done, Luna finally decides to move off me and plop beside the bed.

I stretch out, still thinking about how Isaia’s entire vibe screamed “stay away,” but I couldn't help being drawn to him, and the whole scene that played out.

He was so serious, so intense, like he’s been sculpted out of marble and hasn’t smiled in a decade. And yet, there he was, tangled in Luna’s leash, trying to act like it wasn’t the most embarrassing thing ever.

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