ISAAC'S POV
I drove to the Rossi residence with my heart pounding in my chest. The hospital gown flapped around my legs, thin fabric barely covering what needed to be covered. I didn't care. I needed to see Elijah.
The Rossi estate loomed before me, bathed in the soft glow of its golden lights. Even now, even after everything, it looked just as imposing as ever, standing tall with its pristine walls and its perfectly manicured lawn.
The guards at the gate didn't even give me a chance to state my business. They recognized me, of course, but their orders were clear. Don't let Isaac Rossi through.
I wasn't in the mood for orders.
The servants tried to block my way at the door. "Sir, you can't come in here," one said, putting his hand on my chest.
I shoved past him. "Get out of my way." My voice came out raspy, harsh. The lingering effects of smoke inhalation, I guessed.
