CARISSA’S POV
The air is cool tonight as I walk down the courtyard. Something feels... off.
Then I see her.
Paris stands near the stone archway, dressed in a dark cloak. She leans in close to a tall, broad-shouldered man whose features I can barely make out in the darkness. Their conversation is hushed, their body language tense. My gut tightens as I watch her hands move in quick gestures, as if she’s warning him—or bargaining with him.
Curiosity outweighs common sense, and before I can stop myself, I walk forward. “Paris?”
Paris stiffens.
Slowly, she turns. Her deep brown eyes widen in shock before narrowing into something sharp and venomous. For a moment, she doesn’t say a word, as if debating how to react. Then, with a roll of her eyes, she lets out a scoff.
“Well, if it isn’t
