The summons arrived without warning.
Two guards appeared at Isla’s locked door less than an hour after she’d shattered the mirror. Glass still glittered on her floor like dangerous snow. Her hands were wrapped in hasty strips of bedsheet, blood seeping through in thin red lines. She hadn’t slept. Hadn’t stopped shaking.
One guard spoke without emotion.
“Alpha Elias requires your presence. Immediately.”
Isla stood—legs unsteady—and followed them.
The walk felt like a march to execution. Servants stepped aside as they passed—eyes wide, whispers trailing. Word had spread like fire through dry grass: Master Cairo unconscious. Pineapple on his tray. The new girl prepared it.
The grand study doors opened.
Inside, the air was thick with cedar smoke, old leather, and barely restrained fury.
