Chapter Sixty-Five
The dawn of the departure day arrived not with a gentle rise of gold, but with a cold, pale gray mist that hung low over the gravel of the compound. The air was bitingly sharp, smelling of wet earth, heavy motor oil, and the cold metal of the machines waiting in the yard.
Inside the bedroom, the silence was absolute.
Jake stood by the edge of the bed, already fully dressed in his heavy black leather riding vest over a thick, dark hoodie. His denim jeans were stiff, and his heavy leather boots were laced tightly to his ankles. He looked completely different from the man who had held me on the grassy cliff just days before. The soft, gentle lines of his face had hardened back into the cold, impenetrable mask of the Iron Reapers' Vice President.
I sat in the center of t
