A click of a pistol echoed across the quiet driveway.
Before the woman in the crimson gown could pull the trigger, Ryder grabbed my waist and threw us both behind the solid marble pillar of the porch.
A gunshot cracked through the night air, shattering the glass vase beside the front door into a thousand pieces.
"Hold your fire!" Ryder’s voice boomed across the courtyard as twelve of his black-clad guards raised their submachine guns, surrounding the white Maserati in a tight half-circle. "Celeste, have you lost your mind?!"
The woman in the crimson gown lowered her smoking pistol by an inch, her red lips twisting into a cold, mocking sneer as her heels clicked up the stone steps.
"Lost my mind?" Celeste laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she glared past Ryder straight at
