The convoy sliced through the icy night, headlights cutting across slick asphalt as the Hawthornes made their way back to the estate. No one spoke. The silence in the SUV was a living thing, heavy and suffocating, broken only by the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers and the occasional crackle of the comm system.
Scarlett sat pressed against the leather seat, her fingers gripping the edge until her knuckles turned white. The echo of Grey Mercer’s voice still crawled under her skin like a parasite. You’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life. The way he said it—smooth, certain—made her blood run cold.
She glanced at her father in the front seat. Michael’s expression was unreadable, a mask carved from stone. But she could see it in the way his jaw clenched, the way his hand grip
