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Rhea’s voice soared again, higher and louder than before, the off-key note cutting through the warmth of the kitchen like a banshee in the bayou. Salem froze mid-sip, her jaw tightening. That one note—the one that had always made her blood pressure spike—rang out, and she snapped. “That’s it!” she growled, setting the glass down and pushing her chair back. “Beau! River! Miles!—I’m about to—” She stormed toward Rhea, heels clicking against the tile, determination blazing in her eyes. Miles leaned back against the counter, smirking. “Oh, she’s serious this time.” Beau groaned. “I warned her. And I warned you,” he said to Rhea, though his grin betrayed amusement. River, calm but alert, watched Salem’s approach like a hawk observing prey. “Maybe… intervene?” he muttered, though his tone
- Writer
