The ride back to the villa was unusually quiet. Damon’s hand rested casually on Mara’s thigh, a comforting presence, but she could still feel the tension in him—a current of unease hidden beneath the surface.

Mara stared out the window, replaying the cold certainty in his voice during the meeting. Handled. One word, spoken so easily, and yet it carried blood and endings.

She didn’t want to think about it. But the silence in the car made it impossible not to.

When they returned, Isla ...