The rain hadn't stopped. It whispered against the roof, soft and steady, the kind of rain that made the world outside feel miles away.
Inside the cabin, the silence was heavier than before.
Sophia sat at the far end of the small living room, knees pulled up, her phone screen glowing faintly in her hand.
No signal.
Again!!.
She sighed and muttered, "We're ghosts out here."
Damian didn't respond.
He was at the window, gun in hand, watching the dark stretch of forest beyond the porch.
Isabella lingered between them, her pulse still racing from the earlier chaos.
Every sound, the creak of wood, the sigh of wind made her nerves tighten.
"Whoever they were," Damian said, voice low, "they knew where to find us.
That means someone talked."
Sophia's head snapped up.
"Someone inside your circle, or hers?"
Damian's eyes turned to Isabella, sharp as a blade.
She felt the accusation like a knife to the ribs.
"I don't know," she whispered.
"You think I'd lead them here?"
