Randell turned slightly, the faint scrape of his cane against the marble floor echoing louder than it should have.
"Ares."
The name alone was enough.
Ares straightened instinctively. "Yes, Grandpa."
A pause followed.
But this time, it lingered.
Heavier. Charged with something unspoken.
Randell's gaze shifted, dark and intent, as if he were no longer looking at his grandson—but through him, beyond him, into something far older.
"We're not just visiting Isla."
The air seemed to tighten.
Even the light filtering through the windows felt dimmer.
His eyes hardened.
"We're going to uncover the truth."
Ares' brows drew together slightly.
What truth? What does Grandpa mean?
Before he could ask—
"Grandpa, I'll come along too."
Asher pushed himself off the sofa, his usual lazy demeanor sharpened by curiosity. His grin tilted, but his eyes were focused now.
"I want to see what they've unearthed in the northern part of the island."
Randell didn't respond immediately.
