The air in the subterranean level of the estate always tasted of saltpeter and damp earth, but tonight, it was heavy with the sharp, metallic tang of fresh blood.

Julian Thorne stood in the center of the concrete room, slowly peeling off his ruined suit jacket. The fine Italian wool was speckled w

Clara Vance stood by the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of her gilded cage, staring out at the unforgiving wilderness that surrounded the estate. The morning sun was bright, casting long, sharp shadows across the dense pine trees and the jagged cliffside.

It had been hours since the explosion. H

The heavy oak doors of the dining hall loomed at the end of the corridor, flanked by two armed guards who looked more like statues than men. Marcus Reed walked silently beside Clara, his massive frame a constant, stoic reminder of her captivity.

"He doesn't like to be kept waiting," Marcus murmure