ADRIEN'S POV
By the time Isabella's father was done grilling me about job titles and Cameron had just barely avoided getting strangled by Aria mid-banter, I felt my phone vibrate—once, short.
Gray.
At the hospital. Ready.
I didn't look up. Just typed back, quick and precise:
Don't wait. Go to the scene. I'll pick you up once I've dropped Isabella off. If this wasn't an accident, you'd better have something to show me.
No pleasantries.
No small talk.
Not today.
I slipped the phone back into my coat pocket just as Leo handed Isabella a sandwich and declared hospital food a crime against humanity. My jaw had been tight the whole time—cordial, polite and watchful—but now? It locked even tighter.
Because I couldn't show what was really brewing beneath my composure.
Someone nearly hit her.
Someone aimed.
And if Gray couldn't give me answers, then I'd start pulling threads myself—and I wouldn't be gentle about it.
