Evelyn
Waiting is its own kind of torture. Thaddeus has been inside for what feels like forever, and not a sound escapes the house. My hands tremble as silence stretches, thick and oppressive. Then Ryland tears through the trees, trampling the garden in his rush, shifting mid-stride. His feet skid on the grass, coming to a breathless stop in front of the porch.
“Thank God,” he breathes, bracing his hands on his knees before collapsing onto the ground, utterly spent.
Orion growls the moment Ryland reaches for me, pulling me back against him, away from Ryland’s grasp. Confusion twists in my gut. Didn’t Ryland tell them he gave me permission to leave?
Reaching out, I let Ryland take my fingertips. His guilt slams into me just as hard as Orion’s fury. From Thaddeus, though, there’s nothing
