The air inside smelled of expensive wax, woodsmoke, and copper.

A single lamp was overturned on the marble floor, its bulb still burning, casting long, distorted shadows across the high walls.

“Emily!” I called out.

My voice echoed in the empty space.

At the top of the grand staircase, a door clicked open.

A sliver of yellow light cut across the upper landing.

I heard footsteps, quick and light, running toward the back of the house.

Then, the sound of a heavy bolt sliding into place.

I began to climb the stairs, my hand on the cold iron railing.

With every step, the sound of the helicopter grew louder outside, the blades beating against the glass windows of the estate.

The storm was rising.

And the house was beginning to wake up.

I reached the top landing and paused.

The carpet under my boots was thick, absorbing the sound of my steps.

To my left, a long hallway stretched into the shadows of the west wing.

To my right, a line of amber light glowed beneath a pair of tall mahogany doors.