EMMA
"Luna, you look troubled."
Brian's quiet voice startled me so much that I nearly dropped my pen.
Lita, who had been pouring me a glass of juice, jolted at the sound of his voice and spilled some on the table. With a soft gasp, she hurriedly grabbed a napkin, muttered an apology, and began wiping up the mess.
Brian stood at the edge of the patio, his figure framed by sunlight. He gave us an apologetic smile, his dark eyes warm yet shadowed by something deeper.
"I'm sorry if I interrupted," he said gently.
"Oh no, you didn't," I assured him quickly, setting my pen down and managing a small smile.
Lita and I had been deep in conversation, talking about Ethan's capture and speculating who the assassin could be if not him.
"Why don't you join us?" I added, gesturing toward the table.
