Isla's POV
I stared at the wall clock in the sitting room, watching the seconds crawl forward with the kind of slowness that made every sound in the house louder than it should be.
The ticking had become unbearable, and almost taunting. Each click was a reminder that Killian should have been home by now.
The tea I had poured an hour ago had gone cold, untouched beside me. I had planned everything perfectly, or at least I thought I had. The dinner was ready, with a chilled wine.
My hand tightened slightly around the cup. He never stayed out this late without a reason.
I glanced at the clock again. The same steady ticking. The same empty seat across from me.
Maybe he was held up with Liam, I thought. Or maybe there was something at the pack house that needed his attention. I wanted
