The storm broke at midnight not in the sky, but through the bones of the estate.
I lay awake, Adrian's arm draped over my waist, his breathing deep and even. But sleep wouldn't come. Not with the unanswered questions circling like vultures. Not with Paul's surrender at the vote too easy, too calculated. As if losing had been part of the plan all along.
The first explosion shattered the east hallway chandelier at 12:07 a.m.
Crystal rained onto marble as the blast's echo rolled through the estate. Alarms shrieked. Lights flared to life like startled eyes. Then closer this time—the second detonation hit.
Adrian was out of bed before the glass stopped falling.
"Stay here," he ordered, already pulling on his pants.
"I'm not hiding." I followed him barefoot into the hall, the cold floor bi
