16

JEROME POV

He looks up from the worn leather sofa, utterly unbothered, a crystal glass of brandy cradled in his hand.

The firelight dances across his features, throwing shadows that make his smirk sharper. The corner of his mouth curls into a sly grin, as if he had been anticipating my arrival all along.

“Please,” he says, spreading his arms wide, his voice dripping with mockery. “Come in, brother. Don’t let the concept of knocking stop you.”

I clench my jaw, ...