Isabella’s POV
I heard him pacing before I saw him. Heavy steps. The kind that mean someone’s not thinking about where they’re walking, just trying to burn the thoughts out of their skull.
He hadn’t called for me. He never did. But I came anyway. I knew the meeting was over. I knew what he’d said in front of the others. My name. Luna.
It should’ve made me smile. It didn’t.
He looked… frayed. Standing by the window, arms braced against the frame like he might throw himself into the night. His shoulders were tight, like stone. The firelight painted the room in gold and shadow. His hair was messy. Not the good kind of messy. The kind that says he hasn’t slept in too long.
“You’re not sleeping,” I said. My voice was softer than I meant it to be. I wanted to sound firm.
“Not your concern.
