They were all still there.
Santiago. Mateo. Dante. Nicolas.
Seated exactly as they had been the night before, calm, composed, like the world outside this house had simply paused. For half a second confusion sliced through her urgency.
Why are they still here?
No time to ask.
She kept moving—straight for the front door.
"Where are you going?"
The voice cut through the air. Not raised. It didn't need to be.
Santiago was already on his feet. Watching her. Taking in the leather trousers, the fitted jacket, the sharp set of her shoulders and the phone clenched in her hand like a weapon.
"I need to take care of something urgent," she said, still walking.
She reached the door.
The guards stepped in front of it.
Daniella stopped hard, irritation flashing hot across her face. She exhaled sharply.
"I need to leave."
She turned.
Santiago had already crossed the room. Not rushed. Just there. Close enough that the air between them felt charged.
