(Los Santos Series #1 || Raised under the shadow of twisted expectations, she was molded to compete with her twin brother-to be smarter, better, more obedient. But when he vanished into addiction and disappeared from her life, Isla was left behind t...
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Nocturne Hall, Upper Vinewood Hills
Pierce
The sun had already set in Los Santos. The orange streaks of twilight were long gone, replaced by a charcoal sky that hung low over Upper Vinewood. The manor was quiet now, too quiet. The kind of silence that pressed against your chest like a weight, like something unsaid lingering in the halls.
I was still here. Still pacing these halls. And still not calling her, not texting, and not checking if she'd eaten or where she went after walking out earlier.
Because I told myself I was giving her space. But that's a lie, isn't it?
The real reason? I didn't know what to say after she caught me and Spencer in the kitchen, talking about her like she wasn't real, like she was a problem I didn't know how to handle.
It was the look in her eyes that gutted me. That flicker of disbelief. Not what we were saying. But what I didn't say.
She looked at me like she was waiting for me to speak up. Like she thought I would—should—shut Spencer down. Say something, anything, that proved she wasn't just some temporary stray who wandered into my house wearing my hoodie.
But I didn't. I couldn't. Not with her standing right there. Not with Spencer watching. And that silence became the loudest thing in the room.
I told myself I didn't owe her an explanation, that it had only been four days. But four days felt like months with her.
I heard the side door creak open behind me.
"You look pissed."
Azrael. Of course, it was him.
He stepped into the hallway, his silhouette framed by the dim, amber light spilling from the sconce behind him. Black hoodie, cigarette in his mouth, one hand tucked in his jacket pocket like always—he looked like he belonged to the shadows.
I didn't answer him right away.
"Is this about the girl?" he asked bluntly, taking a drag and blowing smoke out toward the ceiling like he owned the place. "'Cause you've been walking around like you just got shot and the bullet's still in you."
I let out a breath, my jaw clenched. "She's not just the girl."
Azrael raised an eyebrow at that but didn't press. He just watched me carefully, his usual cold indifference flickering for a second into something that looked suspiciously like curiosity.
I ran a hand down my face. "She saw me and Spencer earlier when he paid me a visit."
He whistled low under his breath. "Oof. Rough timing. What did Spencer say?"
"That's not the point." I swallowed hard. "It's what I didn't say."
Azrael stared at me, his expression unreadable for a beat. Then, quietly, "So say it now."
