I watched my grandmother's face as we walked toward the east wing. Her jaw was set in a rigid line, eyes burning with a cold fury I hadn't seen since my childhood. The corridors of Lockwood Manor seemed to darken around us, as if the very walls sensed the impending confrontation.
"Alaric," she said suddenly, breaking our tense silence. "I want to see her alone."
I stopped walking. "Absolutely not."
"You've had your time with her," she countered. "Now I want mine."
"This isn't about taking turns, Grandmother. My mother may be guilty, but I won't allow—"
"Allow?" Her eyebrow arched dangerously. "I've been navigating the Thorne family politics since before you drew breath, boy. I don't need your permission."
I inhaled deeply, fighting to maintain my composure. "Need I remind you that this is my house?"
