Page 85 of Reign

Outside, the traffic thins, buildings giving way to wider roads, manicured medians, and walls set far enough back from the street to make privacy feel like a weapon.

Outside, the traffic thins, buildings giving way to wider roads and walls set far enough back from the street to make privacy feel expensive.

I glance at him again.

He says nothing.

We turn onto a quiet road lined with tall trees. At the end of it, a dark gate waits, cameras tucked discreetly into the pillars.

Worse.

Tasteful.

The gate opens before the SUV fully stops.

I look from the opening gate to Luciano. “Please tell me this is a very dramatic shortcut.”

“No.”

“Of course not.”

The SUV glides through.

The driveway curves toward a massive house of pale stone and dark glass, warm light spilling from the windows.

It’s not a house. It’s an accusation.

I sit forward despite myself. “Whose house is this?”

“Mine.”

One word. That is all he gives me.

My stomach drops. Then immediately climbs back up into my throat.

“Yours,” I repeat.

“Yes.”

I blink at the glowing windows. “Are we making a pit stop?”

“No.”

“Is Riot coming here?”

“He’s supposed to.”

I stare at him. Then at the house. Then back at him.

My brain circles the obvious answer and refuses to land on it because landing on it would mean accepting that Adriana arranged for me to stay in Luciano Castillo’s house, which is so catastrophically insane I briefly consider whether the plane actually crashed and this is my personalized version of hell.

A very luxurious hell. With excellent landscaping.

“Okay,” I say slowly. “Then why are we here?”

Luciano pulls the SUV to a stop near the front entrance.

He doesn’t answer me immediately. He simply turns off the engine, removes his hand from the wheel, and lets the silence settle around us like a locked door.