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“Oh Isla,” I whisper, my fingers touching her skin lightly.

“I had to let her hit me,” she says softly.

“Shh. Don’t say anything else,” the paramedic says, packing up. “I can tell it was self defense from here. Let me see your stomach?”

Isla pulls her shirt up to show the bruises, and the paramedic documents them with a small shake of her head.

“Drink plenty of fluids,” she says softly. “And get the hell out of this house. It’s almost Christmas. I swear the crazies come out now. Take it easy, okay?”

“Where’s Arran?” I ask, looking for him.

“Zayn fell asleep on him,” Noor says with a yawn. “I’m going to be one huge bruise later.”

“We promise to kiss it and make it better,” Draven says, picking her off the couch to hug her.

“It sounds like we’re free to go,” Arran says, coming into the room with Zayn sleeping in his arms. “You can hear how brave Zayn was in the morning.”

“I hate that we weren’t here,” Draven groans, sweeping Noor into his arms. “Thank you for protecting both yourself and Zayn so well, baby.”

We’re careful to keep our voices down and begin walking out of the house. Rachelle locks up the house, and the cops watch us leave as if we’re taking precious evidence with us.

Ugh. At least they got the fucking body out of the house. I’m thoroughly disgusted with the San Diego police officers as I watch them get in their cars after slapping crime scene tape over everything.

I heard all about how Noor’s neighborhood gossips, I’m sure they’ll be all abuzz later. Fuck me.

“You should all move in,” Noor says, resting her head on Draven’s shoulder as we walk to Arran’s vehicle.

“Oh?” I ask.

“Mmhmm. Arran, do you like your townhouse?” she asks.

“Nope,” he snorts. “I hate not being able to sleep with you in my bed every night. I guess I’ll have to share you with these fuckers too.”

I chuckle as we open the doors, though we don’t get in just yet.

“You’re still coming to Emil’s?” Liliana asks, watching us.

“We are,” I reassure her.

“I told them they should move in,” Noor says, pitching her voice so her mom can hear her.

“It’s about fucking time,” Liliana snorts.

“What was that?” Ignacio asks, wrapping his arm around her.

“Nothing,” she grins. “They’re still talking. They’ll meet us at the house.”

“Talking about what?” Ignacio asks, frowning.

“Can we ask her to marry us in peace or is that a family affair too?” Arran asks, making me grin.

Fuck yes, that’s exactly what we need to do. Right fucking now.

“Rachelle! Your daughter is getting engaged,” Ignacio says, his smile smug.

At least the damn cops are gone now. Jeez oh Pete.

I watch as Rachelle’s family rushes over, while Emil grumbles that Julia is going to be pissed she missed this.