The front doors of the mansion didn't just open, they were hurled back against the stone walls with a violence that echoed through the entire foyer. I was standing at the top of the stairs, my heart already hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I knew that sound. It wasn't the sound of the billionaire returning from a successful merger. It was the sound of a man who had been flayed alive and was looking for somewhere to bleed.
Ash didn't see me at first. He stood in the center of the entryway, his expensive wool coat hanging off one shoulder, his tie pulled loose. He looked haunted. He looked small.
"Ash?" I called out, my voice trembling.
He looked up, and for a second, I didn't recognize him. His grey eyes, usually so sharp and predatory, were clouded with a dark, swirling storm
