EMMA
I should have been asleep.
That was the first thought that crossed my mind as I lay staring at the ceiling of my cabin, listening to the estate breathe around me. Lune Noire never truly slept—wood creaked, wind whispered through the pines, distant engines hummed like a living heartbeat—but tonight there was something else threaded through it. Something sharp. Urgent.
Angry.
Voices rose somewhere beyond my window. Not laughter. Not the rough, easy banter I’d grown used to. These were low, clipped, tense—men speaking fast, overlapping, words snapping like teeth.
I pushed myself upright, pulse skittering.
Ignore it, I told myself. It’s not your business.
That rule had kept me sane here. Decorate. Plan. Smile. Don’t pry. Don’t ask why certain doors stayed locked or why Gabriel’s ey
