The rhythmic, sterile beeping of a heart monitor was the first thing to pierce the dark haze in Clara’s mind.

She blinked her eyes open, squinting against the harsh fluorescent lights of a hospital ceiling. Her throat felt like it had been scrubbed with raw sandpaper, and a dull, throbbing ache pu

The smell of wet ash and charred wood hung heavy in the damp morning air, a bitter perfume that coated the back of Clara Vance’s throat.

She stood in the service alley behind *L’Étoile*, staring at the yellow fireline tape crisscrossing the heavy steel doors. The exterior of the building looked re

The interior of the Maybach was a sanctuary of soundproofed silence, smelling of rich leather and the faint, intoxicating scent of Victor Sterling’s cedarwood cologne.

Clara sat in the passenger seat, staring out the tinted windows as the chaotic, gray streets of Manhattan blurred past. It had bee