Chapter 32

Zayd heads straight down the hall and out the back door that leads to the outdoor amphitheater, and the small staff parking lot. Against my better judgement, I head the same way. I figure if he catches me following him, I’ll just say I’m going for a walk to the pond to read. I’ve got my phone, and a Kindle app, so who’s to say I’m not?

The back doors are covered in stained glass, images of weeping angels etched with bright colors and lined with lead. They let light in, but block the view from outside. So I wait a good minute or so to be safe, and then slip out, heading down the graveled path until I’m in sight of the parking lot.

“Well, shit, Vanderbilt, I’m impressed,” Zayd whistles, tucking his inked fingers in the pockets of his skintight black jeans. He circles a black vintage car with his brows raised, sliding a look over to Tristan Vanderbilt as he leans against the hood.

“I suppose you needed a new car after you wrapped the last one around a tree,” Creed dra