“The power is unstable,” Sofia muttered, hugging her arms tightly.

“The storm is getting worse,” I said.

I went to the basin and wet a clean cloth with cold water.

I walked to the bedside and gently wiped Alexander’s forehead.

His skin was burning hot, but he was shivering violently.

“Hang on,” I whispered to him, though I knew he could not hear me.

“Please, Alexander.”

A sudden, muffled thud echoed from the floor below us.

Marcus immediately reached into his jacket, his hand wrapping around the grip of his pistol.

Sofia froze, her breath catching in her throat.

“Is that Luca?” she whispered.

“He would not use the service stairs,” Marcus whispered back.

We stood in absolute silence, listening to the rain and our own breathing.

Then, we heard the distinct, metallic scrape of a key turning in the lock of the private back door.

The door that led directly from the greenhouse to the service corridor.

The floorboards in the hallway creaked softly, a rhythmic, hurried sound.

Someone was moving quickly toward the bedroom.

Marcus took two steps toward the door, his weapon raised.