Blackchurch

The Blackchurch house feels smaller than ever with everyone crowded in the pool room. The smell of chlorine hangs in the air. Adeline shifts nervously, glancing between the guys. Micah leans against the wall, smirking faintly, while Rory sits nearby, his eyes alert and protective. They exchange a small look whenever Adeline moves—silent acknowledgment that she saved Rory from a fall earlier. Aydin is sprawled casually on a lounge chair, one arm draped over the back. “You can sit here,” he says without looking up, gesturing to the empty space beside him. “Make yourself comfortable.” Taylor and Will stand near the edge of the table, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. They exchange a glance, clearly unimpressed. Taylor’s lips twitch in a small, sardonic smirk. Before Adeline can take a step, Taylor’s hand grips her wrist—not roughly, but enough to halt her movement. “Careful,” he says, voice low and controlled. “Don’t assume anyone’s on your side.” Will snorts quietly, leaning closer. “She’s going to learn the hard way.” Aydin tilts his head, eyes on Adeline. “Ignore them. They’ll talk.” Micah chuckles under his breath, nudging Rory. Rory just shakes his head, glancing at Adeline with concern. Taylor loosens his grip just slightly, letting her move, but his eyes linger, sharp and calculating. “Try not to cause trouble,” he warns. “It won’t end well.” The tension hangs in the room like static, everyone watching, waiting, curious how she’ll respond next.