Roman's POV.
My fingers tightened on the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white as the tires of the SUV crunched over the overgrown gravel of the Vane Estate. I didn’t look at the house. I couldn't. Instead, I kept my eyes on the rearview mirror, checking for the headlights that had been a phantom in my mind since we left the lake.
"We're here," I said. My voice was a dry raspy sound, like sandpaper on wood.
Sloane sat in the passenger seat, her body pulled into a tight ball. She was wearing my black hoodie, the sleeves so long they covered her hands. She looked at the massive front doors of her childhood home, and her lower lip trembled. Her eyes were wide, taking in the way the ivy had choked the stone pillars and the way the windows looked like empty sockets.
"It looks different
