The rain had stopped, but the sound of it lingered in Isla's mind. The night felt quieter than it should have been, as if the air itself waited for her next move. She stood on the balcony of the old villa that had become her refuge, or her prison once more, she couldn't decide which. The sea below was calm now, deceptively so, its dark surface swallowing the moonlight in slow ripples.
Rhea's voice broke through the silence. "You haven't slept," she said softly from the doorway.
"I can't," Isla replied without turning. "Every time I close my eyes, I see him."
Rhea stepped closer, wrapping a shawl around Isla's shoulders. "Dante is gone," she whispered, but even she didn't sound convinced.
