The soles of Issac Monroe’s boots met the pavement with a heavy, muted thud, the sound barely registering against the ambient hum of the evening. Natalie Pierce charged out, her movements frantic, her hair slightly disheveled as if she had been pacing nervously inside. She skidded to a halt on the porch, her eyes wide and darting around the courtyard with a mixture of confusion and alarm. She scanned the shadows of the garden, the roofline, and the empty sky above, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
"What are you doing?" Issac asked, keeping his voice deliberately level, a mask of innocent curiosity plastered across his face.
Natalie spun around, fixing him with a stare that was equal parts suspicion and disbelief. She pointed a trembling finger toward the upper levels of the house
