Outside the office, Aunt Marie is pacing the length of the hallway, looking nervous as hell. The second she sees Michael, she stiffens and stumbles back, giving him—and me—a wide berth, refusing to meet my gaze. Funny how power changes things.
Michael leads me through the big house, to the front door and the familiar Cullinan parked right in front, amidst a trail of four other expensive-looking SUVs, where the men who took Dario earlier are waiting. He helps me into the backseat, then slides in next to me.
