The Old Devano Mansion stood atop Avernon Hill like a bloodthirsty stone giant. Its rusty iron gates creaked open, welcoming Alaric's black limousine as it sliced through the darkness of the night. The rain had subsided, leaving behind a thick fog that enveloped the vast courtyard filled with headless marble statues.
Inside the car, Anna stared at her reflection in the window. She was no longer wearing the fragile silk dress. She was wearing a black leather pantsuit that hugged her body like a second skin, with a sharp blazer that concealed a small pistol at her back. Her hair was tied back in a tight ponytail, accentuating her cheekbones, which now looked more angular and sharp.
Alaric took her hand, his rough fingers rubbing Anna's knuckles. "You don't have to go in if you're not ready, Anna. I can finish this myself."
