The ten bright red laser dots burned like searing branding irons against the dark fabric of Alec’s bespoke tuxedo and the rich emerald velvet of Seraphina’s gown.
High up on the polished mahogany mezzanine, Julian Vance leaned heavily against his gold-tipped cane, laughing—a sick, grating, psychopathic sound that bounced ominously off the heavy steel-shuttered walls.
"Any final, profound words, Alexander?" Julian mocked, his bloodshot eyes glittering with unhinged, deranged delight. "I'll make sure to have them elegantly carved on the collective marble tombstone I buy for the ruined Sterling name."
Alec didn't flinch. In fact, a slow, terrifying, deeply confident smirk curved his pale lips.
"You always did talk entirely too much, Julian," Alec murmured. His smoky, rumbling voice carrie
