Chapter 23.
The city lights blurred past the window, streaks of gold and white. Layla leaned her head against the cool glass, watching her ghostly reflection. She was still wearing her torn robe over her ripped nightshirt. One of her feet was bare, the other only in a sock. She didn't even remember losing it. A shaky, hysterical laugh bubbled in her throat. She choked it back, only for her lip to quiver, hot tears rolling silently down her cheeks. Kieran stiffened, the scent of salt lingering in the air, but said nothing. They drove to a part of the city where the trees were older and the walls higher. The car slipped through wrought-iron gates that opened soundlessly, proceeding up a long, curved driveway. The house that loomed ahead wasn't just large; it was a statement in limestone and glass, a mo
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