The basement of the D'Angelo estate didn't look like a dungeon, but for the people kneeling on the cold floor, the air felt just as thin.
Kieran stood in the center of the room, his black coat tossed over a chair, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
Behind him stood Sterling, and a row of newly appointed D'Angelo guards.
Lined up against the cold wall were the survivors from the Montenegro chaos. Three guards who had been stupid enough to surrender, two kitchen staff, and the maids who had been pulled from the wreckage of Valentin's world.
In the center of the line, shaking so hard her teeth clattered, was Lieselotte. The arrogance she had carried in Valentin's mansion was gone.
"I don't like repeat offenders," Kieran said, his voice a low, terrifying hum that vibrated in the small space. He paced the line slowly. He stopped in front of a guard, stared into the man's soul until he flinched, and then moved on.
His eyes finally landed on Lieselotte.
