Eve's POV — Morning. Day Two of Recovery.
She knew something was wrong before anyone said a word.
It was the assembly of it....all three of her mates, Raphael, the four of them arranged in the bedroom with the specific energy of people who had coordinated their presence rather than arrived organically. Damian standing near the window. Silas at the foot of the bed. Damon by the door like he wasn't sure whether he wanted to be closer or needed the option of leaving. Raphael near the wall, arms loose at his sides, expression arranged into that careful neutral configuration that Eve had learned, over months, meant he was managing something underneath it.
They'd been awake all night. She could feel it through the bond....the particular texture of exhaustion that came from sustained high alert rather than physical exertion.
"Tell me," Eve said.
Damian told her.
