I pry myself out of the car and wait for Adrian and Geneva to walk up. Milana doesn’t go inside. She stands in a pocket of shadow by the threshold of the main entrance, her hands folded across her chest and one toe tapping again and again.
A pair of silhouettes emerge from the darkness. Geneva looks skittish, but Adrian has a bloodthirsty look in his eyes. I’ve known him long enough to know what that expression means.
Good. It’s about f*****g time.
No wonder that fight back at the bar didn’t satisfy me the way it should have. This is the fight I’ve been spoiling for.
“Come on,” I growl, leading the way into the house.
Unconsciously, I move into the blue room. The one that opens out into the garden. The one that holds our mother’s grand piano.
Adrian’s eyes land on it immediately. Out
