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I eased the door open and listened. Silence. Either Adeline was still asleep or she was keeping to herself.

My fingers traced the edge of August's coat, still draped over the chair where I'd left it last night. He'd given it to me after the assault, wrapped it around my torn dress with shaking hands. I should return it. Should thank him properly for. . . For what? For not making things worse when you were already breaking?

That's what he'd done. Offered care when I was too shattered to defend myself. It didn't make him less of a hunter. Didn't change what he'd do if he found out I was meeting a Weaver.

I slipped down the stairs, cool morning air seeped through the glass panes. The house was eerily still, the kind of quiet that made it seem like I was already being watched.

I pushed the thought away.

Just as my fingers brushed the handle, a voice rang out behind me.

“Going somewhere?”

My stomach dropped. I froze, breath caught in my throat, then turned—slowly, like movement alone might betray me.

Adeline stood in the doorway at the end of the hall, arms crossed, one brow arched in clear disapproval. She wore a more fitted dress, her blonde hair swept back, making her sharp brown eyes all the more cutting. Even her beauty had an edge.

I gave her my most harmless smile. “Just getting some air.”

She hummed, unconvinced. “Interesting. Because it looks more like you’re sneaking out.”

“Semantics.”

Adeline released a heavy breath, settling against the doorway, clearly not planning to let this go. “August left explicit instructions for you to stay put.”

Of course he had. After last night—saving me, tending my wounds—he'd want me locked safely away. Protected.

Trapped.

“I'm sure he did,” I said carefully.

“He was quite insistent, actually.” Something shifted in Adeline's expression—not quite concern, but close. “Said you'd been through an ordeal last night. That you needed rest.”

So he'd told her. Not the details, probably—August didn't seem the type to share—but enough for Adeline to know I'd been hurt. Enough that she was looking at me now like she was trying to assess the damage.

“I'm fine,” I lied.

“Are you?” Her gaze flicked to where the bandage peaked above my collar. “Because you look like someone who should be in bed, not sneaking out to do. . . whatever it is you're planning.”

“I just need air. The house feels. . .” I searched for the right word. “Confining.”

“Mm.” Adeline studied me, clearly weighing something. “Not one for following orders, are you?”

I shrugged. “Nope.”

For a moment, we just stared at each other, a silent battle of wills.

Then, to my surprise, the corner of her mouth lifted—just a little. “Well, at least you’re honest about it.”

“So. . . are you going to stop me?”

Adeline studied me for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether I was worth the trouble. Then, to my shock, she turned around back into the room she came out of. “Just don’t be stupid.”

I blinked. “That’s it?”

“August thinks he can protect everyone by keeping them tucked away. But sometimes safety means allowing people to make their own choices. Even the foolish ones.”

“This isn't foolish.” I lied, because this was so damn foolish.