Ayla’s POV
I stood in the living room, staring at the closed office door, my phone clutched in my hand. The sound of Arkon's muffled voice drifted through, too low for me to make out words, but the tone was tense.
I paced back and forth, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. Every few seconds I glanced toward the hallway, willing him to come back out, to explain what was happening. The blood on his shirt kept flashing through my mind.
Minutes crawled by. Five. Ten. My stomach twisted into knots with each passing second.
Then the office door flew open and Arkon strode out, his face pale beneath the blood smear. His eyes found mine immediately and something in his expression made my blood run cold.
"We need to leave," he said, his voice tight. "Right now."
What? Leave? Leave wher
