ALESSIA
Aiden's apartment at eleven that night looked like a war room dressed as a kitchen, which was, I was beginning to understand, exactly what it had always been.
Carter had a legal pad covered in his small precise handwriting. Ryker stood instead of sitting, arms crossed, positioned where he could see the door, the window, and me, all at once, like his body had made a private calculation about which threats mattered most. Jasper had abandoned the lightness completely — no jokes, no teasing, just a stillness in him that felt wrong on a person built for motion. And Aiden sat at the head of the table with the same composed authority he brought to a lecture hall, except tonight the composure had a visible cost, something tight around his eyes that hadn't been there yesterday.
"He moved
