The bright, blinding afterimage of the camera flash burned itself into Clara’s retinas. She threw her arm up over her face, stumbling backward until her spine hit the doorframe of the bathroom.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Clara screamed, her voice cracking with terror and disbelief. "How did y

"Going down, little bird?" Victor asked, his voice dark and heavy with a promise of ruin.

Clara stood frozen for a fraction of a second, the heavy brass doors of the penthouse elevator sliding shut behind her, sealing them into the intimate, mahogany-paneled space. The scent of him—cedar, bergamot,

Chaos reigned.

Another explosion rattled the foundation of the St. Regis, sending a spray of plaster and dust raining down from the ceiling of the coatroom. The screams from the ballroom outside were deafening—a horrifying symphony of panicked socialites, shattering crystal, and the relentless, me