Sin For me, Daddy.
And he was bringing hell with him.
The black Rolls-Royce Spectre prowled through the driveway like a shadow swallowing the light, its sleek body reflecting the dim glow of the evening. Behind it, several other cars followed in perfect formation, a silent declaration of power and presence. The low hum of engines faded as they pulled to a stop.
Before the car had fully settled, the door opened, and Drystan stepped out. His movements were swift—purposeful. Without hesitation, he rounded the car, fingers gripping the handle before sliding the door open with an ease that belied the tension in his shoulders.