Isabella's POV (still in third person)
While the women poured their hearts out in trembling voices and halting sentences, Isabella stood just a little behind them, arms loosely crossed, her posture calm yet alert. Her eyes, however, weren't entirely on the women. Ever the observer, ever the strategist, her gaze flicked back and forth across the crowd—quietly scanning.
She wasn't one to miss patterns, and today, she saw one clear as day.
Not every man in the village had come. Some were out hunting, of course, and others… others simply didn't want to face this reckoning. But of those who had gathered, there were four in particular who drew her attention. Not by doing too much—but by doing too little.
They stood oddly stiff, backs a little too straight, eyes darting toward each other every few minutes in an unspoken panic. Not once had they spoken. Not once had they looked toward the women sobbing in front of them. They weren't mourning or confused—they were calculating.
