The afternoon sun shone brightly at the airport as Zoey stepped out of the airplane, her aunt walking beside her. Roland and Taylor followed behind.
Four hours of flight back, with everything that had happened at the airport, left them without much strength. They were all too tired to say much.
Five black BMW cars waited for them a stone's throw from the plane. Zoey’s father had sent them over the moment he received a call that they were on a flight back to the country. Men dressed in black suits all stood guard at the doors, waiting.
“Miss Hart. Mrs. Iris,” one of the men greeted as soon as Zoey closed in. Another opened the door quickly.
“What’s all this,” Zoey said in a tired voice. She looked at the man who greeted her.
The man hesitated. “Your father ordered that we come here
