The safe house was exactly what Aiyana had promised. Remote. Hidden. Ancient.
Tucked deep in the mountains, accessible only by an overgrown dirt road that barely qualified as a path, the hunting lodge looked like it hadn't seen human life in decades. Dust coated every surface. The furniture was covered in moth-eaten sheets. But it had a roof, walls, and most importantly, it was off the grid.
Ronan had left an hour ago to scout the perimeter, to make sure we hadn't been followed. That left just Lucian and me in the main room, the silence between us heavy with everything we hadn't said yet.
I stood at the window, staring out at the darkness of the forest beyond. My reflection stared back at me in the grimy glass. I looked like a ghost. Pale. Hollow-eyed. Covered in dried blood, some mine, some not.
Behind me, I could hear the television that Lucian had somehow gotten working. The news, of course. Because what else would be on?
