The villa was quieter after Matt's departure, but it was not peace that settled over the walls—it was tension, thick and coiled like a storm cloud biding its time.
The sun broke slowly over the horizon, bleeding pale orange into the soft blue of early morning. The warmth creeping across the stone floors of the villa did little to thaw the mood among the residents. In the wake of the elimination vote, no one quite knew where they stood. For all their shared beds and tangled desires, an unspoken hierarchy had cracked.
Darius sat alone on the back patio, a blanket of silence wrapped around him. The faint scent of night-blooming jasmine still clung to the air, and dew coated the edges of the wrought-iron furniture. He nursed a mug of black coffee, elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked on the far edge of the lawn where the ocean met the cliffs.
