Two guards in dark overcoats stood by the heavy oak doors of the lodge lobby.

They did not speak as I approached; they simply stepped aside and opened the doors for me.

The warmth of the lobby hit me instantly, smelling of pine wood, expensive leather, and burning birch.

I found Damon sitting by a massive stone fireplace in a secluded corner of the private lounge.

He held a crystal glass filled with amber liquid, his dark eyes fixed on the dancing orange flames.

“You are on time,” he said, not looking up as I stopped in front of him.

“Leave Marlene and this town out of your threats,” I said, my hands clenched inside my coat pockets.

Damon set his glass down on the polished side table with a soft clink.

“That depends entirely on you, Nora,” he said, standing up to his full, imposing height.

“I will go back to Chicago with you,” I said, forcing myself to look directly into his cold eyes.

He took a step closer, the scent of his expensive cologne mixing with the smell of woodsmoke.