Callisto stood staring at the dead man triumphantly as gouts of blood stained the lush peach-colored carpet.
She had done it!
She had gotten justice for her father, and who knew how many others.
Her victory was short-lived when she heard hard-booted feet storming down the hallway just outside the door.
Sprinting for the balcony, she climbed over the side, and let herself fall without thinking, praying the ground would be soft. She landed hard but was back on her feet, running for her life as she heard the men calling out Gaspar’s name above her.
“There’s the killer, running for the trees! Get them!” one of the guards yelled from the balcony.
Light from torches lit up the estate grounds as armed men searched for intruders. But Callisto didn’t care. If she tried to sneak out, they woul
