Unhealed Wounds

VANCE’S POV

The car is waiting. The driver knows where to go because Sienna arranged everything while I was busy drinking myself into a productive stupor, and the route from the airport to the Rostov estate is one I could drive blindfolded.

Every turn mapped in muscle memory from a childhood spent being driven to and from this place in the back of cars with tinted windows, because Dmitri didn’t wa