The car door swung open, and light spilled out onto the blacktop. June just stood there, chest heaving, hands smeared with oil and blood from the wreck. A woman stepped into the glow—she looked like someone who'd crawled out of the past.
"Daphne?" June’s voice barely made a sound.
Dante’s older sister. Everyone thought she died in that plane crash four years ago. Dante mourned her every day. Now she was here, older, scarred, but those silver-blue Romano eyes hadn’t changed at all.
"Get in the car, June! Now!" Daphne barked. She grabbed June’s arm and yanked her into the seat, grip like steel.
June hadn’t even buckled up before Daphne slammed the gas. Tires screamed, and the car tore away from the woods.
"You’re alive," June said, head spinning. "Dante thinks you’re dead. He thinks the
