The night’s darkness was thick and heavy. The floodlights around the manor had long since been turned off, leaving only the motion-sensor lights to cast faint, fleeting shadows across the stone tiles of the courtyard. Inside the house, a deep silence reigned – the kind of oppressive, dense silence left behind by the exhaustion of a long, burdensome day. In Lucian Thornewell’s room, the wall lamp glowed faintly. He lay on the bed, shirtless, in gray cotton pants, his hands clasped behind his head. He wasn’t sleepy – hadn’t really known what that word meant in years. He just lay there, staring at the ceiling, as if he might find answers there. His thoughts circled endlessly. The construction, the security, his people… and her. Andromeda. The woman who had been kidnapped… and who now seemed t
