Windsor's POV
Darkness still cloaked the landscape when I reached my destination.
The sky stretched above me like a heavy blanket of deep purple, with only the faintest hint of silver creeping along the distant hills. Dawn was still hours away, but I could feel it coming. I had slipped away under cover of night and driven straight through, crossing the border into Southern territory without alerting a soul.
The frigid air cut through my leather jacket like a blade, but I pushed the discomfort aside. My boots pressed into the frozen earth and dead leaves as I moved through the treeline, venturing deeper into hostile ground, heading toward the one location I swore I would never see again.
The old cabin.
My breath hitched.
Of every possible place he could have chosen, why here? Did Mr. Sinclair realize this spot was already burned into my soul? That Zion and I had once walked these same paths when we first started pulling at the threads that would unravel everything?
