The waiting area is dimly lit, the air thick with unspoken tension. Cain sits in one of the leather chairs, legs spread wide, arms draped over the armrests like he owns the place.
His smirk is lazy, arrogant, completely unbothered by the enforcers stationed around him.
They stand like statues, unmoving, but I can see the way their eyes track his every breath. They know what he is. What he's capable of. The two rogues with him sit on the ground, engaged in a casual muted conversation.
Theo is missing from the group.
Caspian and I watch from a distance. He hasn't spoken much since we got back. His gaze is fixed on Cain, silver eyes unreadable.
"I don't like this," I murmur, crossing my arms.
Caspian sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Delilah—"
"I mean it," I cut in. "Something feels off."
He turns to look at me, exhaustion clear on his face. "You're exhausted. You should go back to bed."