The convoy glided through the golden haze of late summer, the heat still clinging to the marble even as the sun dipped below the horizon. The Altera estate shimmered ahead, its white façade glowing faintly in the warmth of dusk.
Inside the car, Dax sat motionless. The last of the light caught in his hair, pale gold, nearly white, and turned it to fire. His unnatural violet eyes reflected the faint pulse of the city lights. He wore black from throat to wrist, the collar of his tailored shirt stitched with thin gold filigree that caught every flicker of movement.
He looked at ease. He wasn't.
Killian's voice came through the comm. "Interior scans confirm three heat signatures at the main dining room. Cornelia and her sons. No other staff present."
"Good," Dax said. His tone was soft, almost pleasant, like he wasn't planning his revenge the moment Killian showed him the proof. "Dinner with family. How civilized."
