#Chapter 55: Gone

ELENA The heat hit the moment we stepped off the plane. That heavy, languid warmth that settled on your shoulders like a silk robe—luxurious at first, but stifling if you sat in it too long. I tilted my face toward the sun and let it bake away the tension that had clung to me since the Summit. It was my first time on this particular island in Barbados. A rare human enclave that lived peacefully—and knowingly—with werewolves. I’d always wanted to see it. The salt-laced breeze off the ocean tangled in my hair as I lounged poolside, sunglasses slipping down the bridge of my nose, a half-melted drink sweating beside me. Aiden cannonballed into the shallow end, sending a splash halfway to the lounge chairs. “Mom! Did you see that?” I pushed the sunglasses up. “You soaked half the patio.” He grinned, unbothered. “That’s the point.” “Just be sure you’re not getting any other guests wet, bud, this is a resort, not our own private pool,” I reminded him. It felt good to see