Stella POV
Melody came back different.
I didn't need a psychic to tell me that. I saw it the second she stepped through the door.
Her face was pale, like she'd just seen something she couldn't see. But it wasn't fear.
It was something else. Something... heavier.
And quieter.
"What happened?" I asked, sitting up on my bed. "You said you'd only be out for an hour. It's 4 a.m."
She didn't answer immediately. She dropped her bag like it weighed a ton and peeled off her hoodie, revealing a thin sheen of sweat clinging to her collarbone.
"I had to check something," she said, voice low.
"Check what? Where did you even go?"
"A place," she muttered. "It doesn't matter now."
Wrong.
It did matter. Because her eyes those sharp brown eyes that never missed anything were full of things she wasn't saying.
I crossed my arms. "Are you in trouble?"
"No."
That was too fast. Too rehearsed.
"Melody."
She sighed and flopped onto her bed, burying her face in the pillow. "I just needed answers. About the tattoo. About the men who... who did what they did."
Silence stretched between us like a tightrope.
I didn't push. I knew her well enough to know that if I asked again, she'd shut down completely.
So I just sat there.
Watching her breathe.
Wondering what kind of hole she was falling into.
"Did you go alone?" I asked, softer this time.
Her head turned slowly toward me. "Not exactly."
Not exactly? That's when it clicked.
This wasn't just about her parents anymore.
This wasn't just about grief or revenge.
There was someone else in the picture.
Someone unexpected. Someone dangerous.
"Is this about that guy?" I asked carefully. "The one with the expensive suit and mafia eyes?"
She blinked. "Marvis?"
I tilted my head. "I didn't know his name, but... yeah. Him."
She sat up now, her posture tight. Like I'd said something I wasn't supposed to.
"You don't understand," she said. "He's not he's not what you think."
Oh no.
That's the sentence you say right before you fall for someone you shouldn't.
"Mel," I said gently. "You sure you know what you're doing?"
"No," she whispered. "But I think he might be the only one who does."
That scared me more than anything.
Because Melody wasn't the type to follow anyone blindly. She was strong. Focused. Hard-headed, even.
But I saw it now the way she sat, the way her voice softened when she said his name.
Something was changing. And I wasn't sure if I could protect her from it.