Third person's POV

The drive home is quiet. Not the comfortable kind of calm, not the peaceful kind that settles naturally between people who love each other, but the heavy, fragile silence that follows terror, the kind that feels like it might shatter if anyone breathes too loudly. Isabella sits in the back seat.

Peter is beside her, his arm wrapped firmly around her shoulders, his hand resting against her upper arm as if afraid she might disappear if he lets go. He hasn't said much since they ...