The mansion did not feel peaceful anymore.
It felt watchful.
Not loud. Not chaotic. Just… aware.
As if the walls had learned how to listen.
Matthew hadn't slept.
He sat at the edge of their bed, the early gray light of dawn slipping through the curtains. Vinny was still asleep, curled toward him instinctively even in dreams. One hand rested on Matthew's thigh.
Protective.
Always protective.
Matthew brushed his fingers gently through Vinny's blond curls and felt the familiar ache in his chest. Three months of marriage. A baby girl. A household that was finally stable.
And now—
Noah.
Not because he had done anything wrong.
But because of what he didn't say.
Matthew wasn't stupid. He had lived too long in this world not to recognize trained composure. The way Noah moved. The way he scanned rooms unconsciously. The way he never stood with his back exposed.
And the way he watched Rafe.
Not suspicious.
Not hateful.
But searching.
As if trying to see something in him.
