"You look like a dog that's just been kicked out of the palace, Mr. Dunne."
The voice was cold and sharp, tinged with contempt.
Olivian Dunne, who was limping along the asphalt road toward the outer gate of the Quinn mansion, was startled.
He turned toward the row of towering pine trees, searching for the source of the voice that crawled under his skin.
A woman emerged from behind the trees' shadows. She was dressed in tight-fitting black clothing that hugged her athletic body.
Her hair was jet black, and her eyes flashed with an unnatural, predatory gleam.
Lyra Blackthorn stood there with her arms crossed, staring at Olivian as if he were a disgusting insect.
“Who are you? Are you one of Adrian Quinn's henchmen?" growled Olivian, trying to salvage what little dignity he had lef
