The main entrance of Mourning Manor had been reduced to a splintered frame of charred wood and twisted iron. Gillian stood at the threshold, his body a map of fresh cuts and bruises, his breathing ragged but controlled. The interior of the house was shrouded in thick, grey smoke, yet the eerie silence that hung in the air was far more dangerous than the roaring flames. His senses were dialed to the absolute limit. He could hear the heavy, methodical thuds of combat boots on the floorboards above and the distinct, metallic click of firearm safeties being toggled off throughout the ground floor.
"Stay close to the shadows, Ghea," Gillian whispered, his eyes scanning the gloom. "Do not make a sound until I tell you."
He moved forward with the precision of a predator, his weapon held at t
