The heavy metal doors of the private elevator snapped shut, cutting off Mason’s cruel, echoing laughter. The sudden, horrifying silence of the penthouse pressed in on Clara, suffocating and thick.

She stood frozen in the foyer, staring at the brushed steel of the elevator doors as if Mason’s words

The drop in temperature within the penthouse was almost physical.

Julian Thorne did not shout. He did not throw his coffee mug against the wall or slam his fists into the marble counter. Instead, he radiated a cold, terrifying stillness that made the hairs on the back of Clara’s neck stand up.

"

"How did you get in here, Derek?" Clara demanded, forcing her voice to remain steady. She didn't retreat another step. She stood her ground, her chin tilted up, though her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

Derek offered a crooked, humorless smile, stepping fully out of the shadows.