Another knock, louder this time.
Jaxon stood up slowly and walked to the door. I followed, heart hammering.
He opened it.
And there, standing on the porch in a pressed suit and smug smile, was Cyrus.
“Well,” he said, hands tucked in his pockets. “This is cozy.”
I froze.
Jaxon didn’t say anything—just tilted his head slightly, like he wasn’t impressed. I could feel the tension buzzing through him.
“Cyrus,” I said carefully. “What are you doing here?”
He stepped forward, but Jaxon blocked the doorway before he could cross the threshold. It was a silent, unmistakable move. One that screamed: not welcome.
Cyrus smirked at him, then turned his attention back to me. “You’ve been hard to reach, Elara. Thought I’d pay a friendly visit.”
“This isn’t a friendly visit,” I said, my voice mor
