Troy–Three Nights Ago
“Troy. So, you came.”
As if I had a choice. Romero was the whole reason I was in this place, trying not to get struck by lightning or drown in the unrelenting humidity while Aaron was stranded on a beach in the Isles of Denali, enjoying a cool drink and tanning his nearly translucent skin on the soft, white sand.
I eyed Romero coolly as he neared, his cane tapping against the stone floor with each slow step in my direction.
“You look like your mother,” he said with a strange, slightly menacing smile. I bit the inside of my lip to stop myself from saying anything, willing myself to have a filter for the first time in my life. “But I understand that you wouldn’t know her, would you?”
I swallowed, tucking my hands in my pockets.
