The drive to Silverwillow Behavioral Center stretched through suburbs I'd never seen. Zephyr's hand found mine on the center console as oak trees blurred past the window.
"You don't have to do this," he said quietly.
"Yes, I do." I gripped my father's journal tighter. "Someone sent those photographs for a reason. If Dmitri Kozlov knows why our family fell apart, I need to hear it."
"What will you ask him?"
"Why he sent the photos. What he knows about my father." I swallowed hard. "Whether violence was always in our blood, or if the life made him that way."
"You're not your father, Thalia." Zephyr pulled into the parking lot. "You've proven that."
Silverwillow Behavioral Center was brick and desperation wrapped in cheerful gardens. Inside, antiseptic fought a losing battle against dec
