chapter 43
JACE MARINO
By the time we reached the new property, the sky had turned that muted grey that never decided whether it wanted to rain or snow. The drive had been long, mostly silent except for the sound of Marco tapping against the steering wheel. We'd taken back roads, switched cars once, and left the last one in a rest-stop lot with the plates wiped clean.
The new safe house sat on a ridge overlooking a half-frozen lake. Smaller, more modern, more glass than wood. Father had bought it years ago under a false name for a mistress. She was long gone; the deed wasn't. Which meant it was ours now.
When the tires crunched up the gravel drive, I already saw Mateo's car parked by the side. He was leaning against the hood, hood up, cigarette dangling. He didn't wave, just lifted his chin slightly as we stopped.
"You made good time," he said when I got out. "I was starting to think the paranoia got you both killed."
"Would've been quieter," Marco muttered, brushing past him.
