Chapter 4

The voice filters through the hallway, unmistakable, and instantly recognizable as Zalie’s. My heartbeat, still erratic, begins to slow as relief spreads through me. I ease the gun and dagger into the large pocket of my dark robe, the cold metal brushing against my fingers as I slip it away. My chest still feels tight, my breathing shallow, but at least now, I’m not on the verge of full panic.

How does she know I’m back? I didn’t tell her. All the times I went looking for Rowan, I made sure I was in disguise, careful not to leave any trail. And yet, here she is.

“I’m still uncertain about breaking into her house,” Lyla’s voice drifts up from the living room, her tone anxious and hesitant. I step quietly to the bannister, leaning over to get a clear view of them below.

Zalie is bent forward, her face mere inches from the massive fish tank wall, her cornflower-blue eyes sparkling with curiosity and fascination. Her excitement is so palpable that it almost makes me smile despite myself. She’s always been this way—childlike and endearing, a mix of innocence and determination wrapped in a warm, caring demeanor.

Zalie and I first met on set years ago. No matter how much I tried to push her away, she stuck by me, relentless in her kindness, much like Rowan had.

My gaze shifts to Ivanna. She’s holding two expensive vases in her hands, her red-painted lips curling into a mischievous smirk. Her auburn hair is a wild, tangled mess, as if she’d just come from a fight or an argument with the wind. Her ripped, tight, and impossibly revealing clothes make me shake my head, a small smile tugging at my lips. She hasn’t changed at all, still as bold and unapologetically herself as ever.

“Relax, Lyla Berry. I’m sure Lynnie won’t mind us letting ourselves in,” Ivanna says loudly, her voice ringing through the space with its usual lack of subtlety.

Of course, she’s the loud one. Always quick to speak her mind, always the first to make herself heard. Lyla, on the other hand, is her opposite in so many ways—quiet, reserved, more thoughtful. She stands near the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, but there’s a tension in her posture. Her glossy black hair falls neatly over her shoulders, and the warm glow of the living room light highlights her tan complexion, giving her an almost serene presence. But her eyes betray her concern, darting around the room like she’s searching for answers.

I can’t help but chuckle softly. They’re as predictable and amusing as ever. Knowing Zalie and Ivanna, they’re fully aware that I’m watching them. They’re too perceptive to miss it, which means they also know I’m back. Lyla, however, is clearly here by accident, caught up in their antics.

“Hey, girls,” I say, my voice breaking the silence suddenly.

Lyla screams and jumps, nearly tripping over her long, baggy gown. She flails her arms comically, barely managing to catch herself before face-planting on the floor. Zalie straightens leisurely, brushing the loose strands of her butterscotch-blonde hair behind her ears as she turns toward me. Her expression is warm, her smile as radiant as always. Ivanna’s gaze is already locked on mine, her grin playful and knowing.

“Hey, bestie! Surprise!” Zalie exclaims, waving at me energetically as if I hadn’t just startled them.

“Lynette?! When did you get back?!” Lyla shrieks, her voice high-pitched with shock as she clutches her chest like I’ve given her a heart attack.

I giggle softly, waving in her direction. “I’m more surprised that you know. I didn’t tell anyone—” My voice falters slightly as realization dawns. “Ah, Elliott,” I mutter, my eyes widening. Of course. I blocked him from seeing me, ignored his calls and messages, but I should have known he’d find a way to get to me. And who better to drag me out of hiding than Zalie?

My manager’s persistence never ceases to amaze me, but I can’t help the frustration that bubbles up. He shouldn’t have done this. I’m not in the right state of mind to face anyone, let alone them.

“You look like shit,” Ivanna says bluntly, her eyes scanning me with a smirk that softens the sting of her words.

Zalie nods in agreement as she begins climbing the stairs toward me, her expression shifting from playful to deeply concerned. The warmth in her eyes and the compassion in her gaze twist something in my chest, pulling painfully at the grief I’ve been trying so hard to keep locked away.

“Lyn, what’s wrong?” her voice cuts through the quiet, her tone soft but edged with concern. The faint scent of her perfume—floral with a hint of citrus—fills the air as she steps closer, her cornflower-blue eyes fixed on me. “Elliott said you looked healthy the last time he saw you, but this…” Her gaze roams over my body, lingering on every hollowed feature before she stops right in front of me. “You are the opposite of healthy. You look like Frankenstein found a couple of bones and stitched some dry flesh to them.”

Her hand comes up, cupping my face. Her touch is warm, but the tenderness of it only deepens the ache in my chest. “You’ve been crying,” she murmurs, her thumb brushing lightly across my cheek, “a lot at that.”

I can’t hold her gaze. It’s too much, the concern in her eyes a mirror for my own despair. I look down instead, my focus shifting to Lyla, who stands in the center of the room. Her dark eyes are wide with worry as she stares up at me. My throat tightens, and I bite into my bottom lip, trying to keep my emotions at bay.

Zalie notices, of course. She always does. Her thumb moves down to my lip, brushing over it with a soft pressure that sends a shiver down my spine. Without warning, she presses her thumb against my mouth, forcing me to release my lip from between my teeth. “Don’t do that,” she chides gently. “You’ll bleed.”

A bitter laugh escapes me, and I grab her wrist lightly, pulling her hand away. “I want to throw myself out of a window,” I mutter, my voice low and hollow, “but I love myself too much to die.”

Her blue eyes search mine, unflinching, and the way she watches me makes it clear that she doesn’t believe a single word of my attempted joke. I force a smile anyway. “You look gorgeous, Zalie. Incredibly so.”

She doesn’t smile back. Her gaze remains cold, piercing, as if she’s trying to unearth every secret I’m hiding. “I owe it all to my boyfriend, Zeris,” she finally says, her tone softening just slightly. “He’s a sweetheart.”

I snort, letting go of her wrist as I take a step back. “You? Boyfriend? Miss ‘Money Is Better Than Boys’?”

Her lips twitch into a smirk, the chill in her gaze melting into something playful. “Apparently, money isn’t better than men. And Zeris is most definitely a man.”

I chuckle, shaking my head as I turn toward the stairs. Standing here, trying to keep up this charade of normalcy, is draining the little energy I have left. My body feels heavy, each step an effort as I move toward my room. Behind me, I hear the sharp clicking of heels on the tiles, mixed with the softer pattering of boots and the bare slap of my own feet against the cold floor. They’re following me.

“So, did the treatment succeed?” Ivanna’s voice rings out from behind, loud and brash as always. “I can’t tell because you look like a bag of bones with a big ass.”

Her comment draws giggles from the others, and I can’t stop my hand from reflexively rubbing at my hip. Realizing what I’m doing, I quickly drop it, my cheeks burning. I’ve lost so much weight during the grueling treatments at the temple that even that small reminder stings.

I shake my head, pushing the memories back. There’s no point in dwelling on it. I made a promise to myself, and to the others, to leave all of it behind. “It did,” I say quietly, my voice steadying as I glance over my shoulder at them. “But I’m still under watch. How did you even manage to break into my house with all those bodyguards outside?”

“I’m a demon,” Ivanna replies with a smirk, her auburn hair wild as ever, catching the light in a way that makes her look both mischievous and completely unapologetic.

Zalie points to herself with a sweet smile. “I’m a mysterious beast,” she says with a playful wink.

I roll my eyes, turning my head back toward the hallway. They never take anything seriously.

“Oh, and I’m pregnant,” Lyla suddenly adds, her voice so casual it almost doesn’t register at first.