Chapter 27

• Noah.
• I stood by the window in my study, hands pressed against the cool glass and looking out at the woods I’d walked a hundred times.
• Isaac barged in without knocking, slipping into the high-backed chair across from me like he’d been invited. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the good whiskey, imported, aged, then leaned back, glass in hand and legs crossed. He looked at me like he was back in Father’s parlour, playing some twisted gentlemen’s game.