Four

ISOLDE POV

Morning came slowly, gray and cold, slipping through the trees at the edge of Ravenmoor. I blinked against the weak sunlight streaming through the windshield. My body still ached from the night before.

I hadn’t really slept. I spent the night awake, gripping the wheel, listening for sounds that he warned me about. Every shadow seemed alive, every creak made my chest tighten.

The town looked quiet. Peaceful, but the peace itself felt deceptive.

I forced myself to stretch, opened the truck door, and let the cold morning air hit me. I breathed in deeply, trying to clear my head. I had a town, a house, an address, and a password.. but I didn’t know what waited for me there. And I wasn’t leaving until I found out.

After a quick breakfast of granola bars and water, I started the truck. The town was slowly waking up.

Seventeen Blackthorn Lane. I repeated it in my head. That’s where answers were. That’s where Alara’s secrets lay, and everything in her life began.

I drove slowly through the narrow streets, noticing the old buildings, iron gates, and ivy creeping along the walls. Everything felt quiet, like the town was holding its breath.

I stopped at random houses, asking anyone I saw if they knew the street.

“Excuse me,” I said to an older man watering his garden. “Do you know where Blackthorn Lane is?”

He squinted at me for a long moment, then shook his head. No words.

I tried another house. “Hi, can you tell me how to get to 17 Blackthorn Lane?”

Nothing. Just silence. People stared at me like I’d grown two heads.

My stomach tightened.

Fear, frustration, and anger all mixed. I was about to give up when I spotted a small café tucked into the corner of a side street. Faded wooden signs. Steam curling from a single chimney.

I parked the truck and grabbed my bag. Maybe coffee would clear my head… or at least give me a moment without the weight of the whole town staring at me.

Inside, the smell of fresh bread and roasted coffee beans hit me immediately. Warm. Welcoming. A sharp contrast to the cold suspicion outside.

I walked to the counter. “Hi… um, do you have a hot Americano?” I asked.

The barista, an older lady, smiled at me. “We do. Would that be all?”

“Yeah,” I said, still glancing around the quiet café. Not many people were here.

She nodded and started making the coffee. Then she looked up at me, her eyes sharp.

“You’re the new face asking about Blackthorn Lane,” she said casually.

I froze.

Ten minutes. I had been in this town for just ten minutes, and she already knew.

“No need to be shocked,” she said, reading the disbelief on my face. “We don’t get new faces around here. News travels fast in a small town like this .”

I nodded nervously, gripping my bag a little tighter.

“So… why are you looking for Blackthorn Lane?” she asked, her eyes fixed on me.

I hesitated, feeling my chest tighten. “…Hmm. It’s nothing,” I said quickly.

I tried to focus on something else. “Is my coffee ready?” I asked, unable to stand being here another second.

“In a minute,” she said, still staring at me. Her voice was calm, but there was a weight behind her words. “There’s only one person in this town who can help you… and show you where Blackthorn Lane is.”

“Who?” I asked, my curiosity and nerves twisting together.

“I’d have to put a call to him,” she said slowly. “If you’re not in a hurry… or not too scared to leave your truck… You could sit and wait for him.”

I froze.

I shifted in my seat, gripping my bag. “I… I’ll wait,” I said finally.

The barista nodded, turning back to the coffee machine. Steam curled from the cup as the rich aroma filled the small café. My mind raced.

I sat there quietly, staring at the coffee the barista had set in front of me five minutes ago. I couldn’t drink it. My hands were shaking slightly, and everything about this town.. the silence, the stares, the people... kept my nerves on edge.

I waited, trying to calm my thoughts, waiting for whoever was going to tell me how to find Blackthorn Lane.

Then I heard a voice.

“Anna… who did you say was looking for Blackthorn Lane?”

My blood ran cold.

There he was.

The monster who had hurt my sister.

The man who had sent me out into the middle of the night like some helpless idiot. The asshole who had stared at me with that impossible confidence on the road last night.

He looked… irritatingly good. His black shirt clung to his arms, showing every muscle, every curve of strength. His hair was perfect, his jaw tight. And yes… damn it.. he was hot.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry.

“There she is,” the barista said softly, nodding toward me.

His eyes landed on me. Cold. Intense. Piercing.

My body shivered despite myself.

I wanted to hate him. I wanted to run. I wanted to punch him in that perfect jaw.

But instead, I just sat there, frozen.

He walked toward me slowly. Every step felt deliberate, measured, like he owned the space around him. I felt my breath catch, my chest tightening, as his gaze burned into me.

“Oh… " It’s you again,” he said, his tone casual but dismissive, like I was some minor inconvenience he didn’t have time for.

“Oh… " It’s me,” I muttered under my breath, barely able to meet his eyes.

The barista nodded toward him. “There. That’s the man you need. The only one who can take you to Blackthorn. Meet Cairos… Cairos Veylan, the mayor’s son.”

Cairos paused mid-step, his eyes flicking toward the barista, then back to me. Cold. Intense. Unyielding.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to sit up straighter.

His eyes burned into mine, cold and sharp, like he could see straight through me.

“Who are you,” he said slowly, his voice low and dangerous, “and why are you asking for Blackthorn Lane… ?”