Adeline just sat there—composed, upright, her gaze fixed on Julian with the sort of intensity that could split the air. She didn't say a word. Neither did he. But Rose could feel it—an invisible conversation charged with tension, like a silent war between two generals testing each other's resolve without lifting a single weapon.
It unsettled her more than she'd admit. The room, which moments ago was calm, now felt tight, like the walls were inching in with every tick of the clock. Stella, who had tried to break the ice with a cheerful hello earlier, had been met with a nod so cold it could frost glass. And Julian—who usually carried a smooth confidence—had said nothing since Adeline arrived, though his body language screamed awareness, like a wolf entering the territory of another alpha.
Rose couldn't understand it. Adeline had always been stern, sure—but this? This was different. She had been unwelcoming in a way that made Rose's spine tingle with nerves.
Desperate to break the tension, Rose stood up quickly—maybe too quickly.
"Aunty Adeline," she said, forcing a light tone that didn't quite mask her unease. "I'll go make you some tea. Julian, would you like a refill?"
Julian nodded once, wordlessly, and held out his cup. Rose took it with a small smile, but her eyes flicked between them. The tension hadn't gone anywhere.
She made her way to the kitchen with practiced calm. The clink of porcelain and the soft hiss of the kettle filled the space, grounding her. But her thoughts were elsewhere.
Why is Addie acting this way?
And Julian... he hasn't said a word. Isn't that strange?
She bit her lip as she poured the boiling water into the teapot.
Back in the living room, Adeline finally broke the silence.
"What do you want with Rose?" she asked, her voice low and deliberate—like she already knew the answer but wanted to hear it from him.
Julian turned his gaze toward her slowly, lifting his chin with unapologetic confidence. "Nothing."
Adeline narrowed her eyes, as though dissecting the word. "Then why are you with her?"
There was a pause.
"Because I'm interested in her," Julian said, his voice calm but firm. "She's mine."
It wasn't possessive in the toxic way. It was protective—anchored in a claim born of intention, not ownership.
Adeline's gaze sharpened. "Are you aware," she said slowly, "that if you stay with her... if you make her yours—you're dragging her into your world? A world of danger?"
Julian didn't flinch. "Then what am I here for?"
His voice was unshaken, his eyes like stone. He spoke like a man used to storms.
Adeline leaned back slightly, letting out a short breath that could have been a laugh—or a sigh of resignation.
"Well then," she said, a faint smirk ghosting across her lips. "Good thing she's undergone some basic training. It's left for her to get experience."
Julian blinked. "Training?" he echoed, almost to himself.
Just then, the door to the kitchen swung open, and Rose emerged, holding two cups of tea with careful hands. Her smile faltered as she sensed the shift in the air—but she said nothing and walked over, handing the cups to their intended owners.
"Here you go," she said gently, trying not to look too curious.
Julian took his cup with a quiet thank you. Adeline only nodded, her expression unreadable.
What none of them noticed at first was Daniel—leaning just slightly against the hallway wall, eyes narrowed. He had heard everything.
Training? Danger? Why did Addie sound like some ex-military agent evaluating a recruit? And what did Julian mean by she's mine?
His brows furrowed deeply. Were they speaking in code? It sounded like code.
He stepped forward, entering the room, but his eyes flicked between Adeline and Julian, searching for some crack in their composed faces. Nothing. They were both too skilled—too trained, he realized.
It made him uneasy.
Adeline, ever the natural actress, resumed her calm demeanor and started to chat about the tea like nothing had happened. Her smile returned, her voice smoothed. And somehow, the room warmed up again.
Rose internally sighed with relief. Tea always does the trick, she thought.
But Daniel couldn't let it go. His thoughts raced. What does Julian do? What kind of danger is Addie talking about? And most of all—Why did it feel like they've known each other far longer than they let on?
He was still lost in thought when the doorbell rang.
Once.
Twice.
No one moved.
Then Rose stood up.
"I'll get it," she said.
She walked to the front door, her hand resting on the knob for just a second longer than usual. Something didn't feel right—but she brushed it off and opened the door.
What she saw made her gasp.
Loud enough that it snapped everyone's attention toward her.
Daniel, startled out of his spiral of thoughts, jumped to his feet and rushed to the door.
His expression shifted the moment he saw what—or rather who—was standing outside.
He was frozen for a moment. Then he stepped closer, barely breathing.
Julian moved as though to rise from his seat, but Adeline held up a hand—small, graceful, and commanding.
"Stay seated," she said quietly. "If it's danger, let them face it. It's time they got their experience."
Julian stared at her like she'd lost her mind. His knuckles tightened around the teacup.
"They're not ready," he muttered, almost growling.
"You didn't think you were ready when you were thrown in," Adeline said. "But you survived."
Julian's jaw clenched. He hated it—hated being told to wait when his instincts screamed protect her.
"Julian," Adeline said again, firmer now. "If you want her to stand beside you, she has to learn to stand on her own."
His grip eased slightly. Just slightly.
The sound of voices at the door filtered in—familiar, yet unexpected.
Rose's voice was tight. "W-What are you doing here?"
And Daniel's was just as confused. "You've got to be kidding me..."
Julian leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse without disobeying Addie's silent command.
Adeline sipped her tea slowly.
Outside, the wind stirred.
Inside, everyone held their breath.
Whatever—or whoever—stood at that door was not just another visitor.