Damon’s POV
The tires of my car crunched over the gravel of the long, familiar driveway. The old family house loomed ahead, a hulking shadow of dark timber and stone against the night sky. It hadn’t felt like home in a long time. I pulled to a stop, but my finger didn’t move to end the call. Lana’s soft breathing was a quiet anchor in the storm I was about to walk into.
I plucked the phone from its cradle and clipped a nearly invisible wireless earpiece into place, the tiny red light blinking to life. “I’m here,” I said, my voice low. “Ask me anytime you’ve made up your mind.”
I could feel her hesitation through the silence, a tense, waiting energy. I pushed the car door open and stepped out. The air here was different, thick with the scent of pine and old power.
The heavy front door
