The guard beside me released his grip on my mouth but kept his fingers dug into my shoulder.

“Get her out,” Camille commanded, stepping down from the passenger side.

Her heels clicked against the stone driveway as she walked toward the massive front doors.

The cold Chicago air hit my face, smelling of lake water and vehicle exhaust.

I was pulled from the leather seat and forced to stand on the wet ground.

The rain had turned into a steady, freezing drizzle that soaked through my jacket instantly.

The estate loomed over us, a massive stone fortress surrounded by black iron gates and high walls.

Two guards stood at the double oak doors, their submachine guns held low across their chests.

“Move,” the man behind me said, shoving me forward by my elbow.

My sneakers slipped on the wet stone steps, but he caught me before I could fall.

Camille did not look back at me as she reached the top of the steps.

She shook the rain from her blonde hair and smoothed the front of her expensive coat.