Fire truck sirens howled, but for June, the world had gone quiet. She couldn’t look away from the old man standing in front of her—Silas Romano, her grandfather. He was supposed to be dead, yet here he was, alive and leaning on a silver cane. His eyes—sharp and cold—reminded her of a hawk.
“Whose blood is in me?” June’s voice was barely a whisper. She felt like she’d just stepped off the edge of a skyscraper, waiting to fall.
Silas smiled, but there was nothing kind about it. “The Vancent family likes to think they’re the only ones with secrets. But your mother, June… She was the smartest person I ever met. And she didn’t come from money.”
A crack split the air—a tree branch, heavy with rain, snapped and crashed down. Silas didn’t flinch, but Dante lunged forward, yanked June back, kept
