Isla’s POV
We were making our way to the Vance house, the engine of Rowan’s sports car purring like a predator in the quiet of the evening. Every mile we covered felt like a step closer to my own execution. I sat huddled in the passenger seat, staring out the window as the familiar landmarks of the Crescent Moon pack territory blurred past. My mind was racing. How did he even know the direction? I hadn't given him the address. The realization hit me with a sickening thud—he and Sera must be close friends. If they were close, he probably knew exactly who I was. He knew I didn't just "live" there; he knew I worked as a maid in her house. I was sure he would find a way to taunt me with it soon, to rub my face in the dirt just like the Vances did.
"You can stop here," I said suddenly. My voi
