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“The Sons are organizing again.”

I lifted my gaze.

The air sharpened.

“This wasn’t random.”

“No. They’re rebuilding the structure.”

No one moved.

Not even Rafe.

“What about the surviving Daughters?”

An ache settled in the back of my throat.

I fought the need to swallow. “They don’t get near this house.”

“She still upstairs?”

My jaw tightened.

“You should move her.”

“No.” I snapped.

Rafe slowly cleared his throat. “The estate’s secure.”

But I felt his focus. His questions. His fear.

“This is too familiar.” One said.

“Like Ash all over again.” Another murmured.

“Don’t say that here.” Rafe growled.

But the unspoken gathered. “If the Sons are rebuilding… does Vale know?”

Cold climbed higher beneath my skin.

The monitors hummed louder.

“If Vale was involved…” I paused. “You wouldn’t be asking.”

A floorboard creaked overhead. My attention shifted instantly. A tiny movement. Barely there. But enough. One of them leaned back slightly. Not surprised. Observing.

Another creaked.

A scrape.

No.

A thud.

I knew that gait anywhere.

No matter how quiet she tried to be.