Ares didn’t waste ti.
He assigned Asher to investigate the snake incident—his tone leaving no room for questions, while he and Lara boarded the transport to Isla.
Grandpa Randell insisted on coming along, as he often did since he arrived in Laguna, his curiosity about the excavation rivaling that of any young researcher.
This ti, they headed toward the northeastern sector.
The mont they arrived, the air felt different—charged, almost expectant.
The once-ruined East Gate now partially restored, its ancient stonework cleaned yet still bearing the scars of ti. Workers moved about in the distance, but near the gate, three figures stood out, snapping photos like tourists in a place that held far more secrets than it revealed.
Lara slowed.
She recognized them even from afar.
Then one of them turned.
"Sis!"
Lucas broke into a wide grin and strode toward her, sunlight catching the edge of his white cap. His oversized brown-tinted sunglasses mirrored her own, almost mockingly so.
For a split second, Lara froze.
It was like looking into her distorted reflection—one that had been stretched taller and built broader.
"Lucas... you’re here?" Lara blinked, still trying to reconcile the sight of him with her expectations. "I thought you went back to the capital."
He didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he stepped forward and pulled her into a firm, effortless hug.
The warmth hit her all at once—familiar, disarming, and painfully nostalgic. For a fleeting mont, she was no longer standing in the ruins of Isla, but sowhere far away... back when her brothers would gather around her, treating her like sothing fragile and priceless, like she was their world.
She almost forgot where she was.
"Sumr convinced ," Lucas said as he pulled back, a hint of amusent in his voice. "We signed up as volunteers here—for our pre-d internship."
Lara’s brows knit together.
Her gaze flicked, almost instinctively, toward Sumr.
There was sothing in the way he said it—too casual, too easy. As if the decision hadn’t really been his to begin with.
And that bothered her more than she expected.
And then—
She felt a chill climbed down her spine.
It was sharp and imdiate.
Lara pulled back slightly, her senses prickling. She didn’t need to turn to know.
But she did anyway.
Ares stood a few steps behind, his gaze locked onto them. His expression was controlled, but the tension in his jaw betrayed him. Displeasure radiated off him like heat before a storm.
"Ares, glad to see you here."
Layla’s voice cut in, honey-sweet and deliberate. She stepped forward, her smile practiced, her movents graceful—too graceful. She leaned in slightly, clearly intending to close the distance.
Ares didn’t move. He didn’t have to.
The sharpness of his glare stopped her cold.
The mont stretched, awkward and heavy, before he spoke.
"Where is Liam?"
His tone was clipped, all business, as his eyes scanned the area.
Lucas scratched the back of his neck. "He headed to the southern sector. Went to pick up old Persius Nades and Alia. Persius wanted to et Grandpa. He said it’s sothing important."
At the ntion of Alia, a subtle shift rippled through the group.
Sumr’s expression darkened—just for a second, but it was enough.
Lara noticed. She always did.
"Alia is here?" Lara asked, unable to hide the spark of excitent in her voice.
Lucas nodded. "Yeah. She got assigned here." He gestured around them. "Sa as us."
For a mont, the ruins, the excavation, the tension in the air—everything faded into the background.
Alia was here.
And sohow, Lara had the feeling that things were about to get a lot more complicated.
...
Alia wasn’t surprised to see Lara.
She had known for so ti now—rumors traveled fast across Isla, especially among the crews stationed in the southern sector. Lara’s na ca up often, spoken with a mix of admiration and disbelief. They said she could navigate the mausoleum like she had lived in it, that she understood its structure better than so of the senior researchers.
Each ti Alia heard those stories, her eyes would light up—bright, almost reverent.
And now, here she was.
In front of her.
"Why didn’t you tell you were here?" Lara asked, stepping closer without hesitation, her voice carrying a warmth she rarely showed others. "When did you arrive?"
Liam’s brows furrowed.
He stood just a few steps away, yet it was as if he didn’t exist.
No greeting. No acknowledgnt.
First Alia had overlooked him—and now Lara too?
The realization settled uncomfortably in his chest. He shifted his weight, suddenly unsure of where to place himself in the scene.
After a brief, awkward pause, he stepped aside, quietly removing himself from the center of attention.
If he wasn’t going to be seen, he might as well make it easier for everyone else.
Sumr noticed imdiately.
Opportunity flickered in her eyes.
"Liam, have so water," she said, her tone soft—almost too soft—as she offered him a bottle.
Liam accepted it with a small nod. "Thanks."
He twisted the cap open, raising it—
—but before the bottle even reached his lips, it was gone.
Lara had taken it.
Without hesitation. Without asking.
"Amy," she said, turning smoothly as she placed the uncapped bottle into Alia’s hands. Her gaze swept over Alia’s face with unsettling precision. "Your lips look dry. Mild dehydration, at least. You should drink more."
Alia blinked, slightly caught off guard—but she obeyed, taking a sip.
Only then did Lara glance back over her shoulder.
"Bro, thanks for opening it."
And then, her eyes slid toward Sumr.
A faint, almost playful curve touched her lips—but there was nothing friendly about it.
"Thanks for the water."
The mockery was subtle.
But it landed.
"You—"
"Aren’t you shaless?"
Sumr and Layla spoke at the sa ti, their irritation barely contained.
"That bottle was for Liam," Sumr snapped, her voice tightening in a way that betrayed more than just annoyance.
Alia, seemingly oblivious—or perhaps deliberately so—finished nearly half the bottle before lowering it. She turned and handed it back to Liam with a calm, polite smile.
"Here. I’m returning it to you."
Then her gaze shifted.
Straight to Sumr.
One brow lifted, ever so slightly. It was a small gesture. But it spoke volus.
Sumr’s hands clenched at her sides, her nails digging deep into her palms until crescent marks ford against her skin. The sting grounded her—but did nothing to quell the heat rising in her chest.
The air around them grew tight.
Charged.
And just beneath the surface, sothing ugly was beginning to take shape.
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