Troy–Three Nights Ago

“Troy. So, you came.”

As if I had a choice. Romero was the whole reason I was in this place, trying not to get struck by lightning or drown in the unrelenting humidity while Aaron was stranded on a beach in the Isles of Denali, enjoying a cool drink and tanning his nearly translucent skin on the soft, white sand.

I eyed Romero coolly as he neared, his cane tapping against the stone floor with each slow step in my direction.

“You ...