Maria
The wrought iron gates loom in front of the SUV, casting long shadows across the cobblestone driveway. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves as I mentally prepare myself for what comes next. I step out of the SUV and gaze up at Sorokin's castle. My knees shake the closer my feet carry me to the oak door.
The imposing door swings open, and an old servant greets me. "Welcome, Maria Zakharovna,"
I nod politely and enter. The door shuts behind me, and the lock clicks in place, echoing through the mansion. The hairs on the back of my neck rise in response. The ancient tapestries and impressive paintings I gawked at on my first visit leave me cold as I walk further into the melancholy.
I'm shown into the dining room, where Sorokin waits.
"Maria Zakharovna," he says with an
