Zyron's Pov
The drive to Villa de Ortega was as if I was continuously moving through a tunnel that never quite ended.
The city that was outside the windshield turned into streaks of amber light, but my mind was not willing to flatten with it. Every streetlamp that passed reflected through the hood as if it was the heartbeat of a truth that I hadn't yet spoken.
In the passenger seat, Savannah looked as if she was frozen in time. She had her fingers - that were slim and as white as snow - intertwined over the small swell of her stomach. Every now and then she almost unconsciously rubbed slow circles with her thumb, and that was the only interruption to the silence with the sound of her nail against her palm.
I pulled the steering wheel closer to my chest. The DNA results were in my email inbox waiting like a loaded gun. Positive.
