Liliana
The color drained from Mikhail's face as he stared at his phone, and I knew without seeing the screen that something terrible had happened. His entire body went rigid, every muscle coiled like a spring ready to snap.
“What is it?” I whispered, though part of me didn't want to know.
He held out the phone with a shaking hand. The image on the screen made my stomach lurch. A woman with silver hair and Mikhail's distinctive cheekbones sat tied to a chair, her mouth covered with tape, her eyes wide with terror. Behind her stood a man I recognized from around the manor as Anton, Mikhail's head of security.
“Aunt Anastasia!” I bellowed in disbelief. She was sick and still receiving treatment.
I looked at the timestamp in the photo. “This was taken twenty minutes ago.”
“Anton’s been
