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Chapter 70 - Seventy
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... not merely dark; it was angry.
It was a night where the heavens had opened up to drown the earth. Rain did not fall; it lashed against the cobblestones in sheets of gray steel. Thunder cracked like a whip, shaking the very foundations of the townhouse in Mayfair.
Inside, the air was thick with panic.
"Come, Delaney. Quickly," Arthur Kingsley said.
His voice was tight. It was laced with a worry that a seven-year-old Delaney had never heard before. Her father was us ...
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