“Take her,” I told my mother, handing Lila to her. “Take the SUV and go to the gatehouse.”

“Adrian, be careful,” my mother said, her eyes wide.

“I will,” I said. “Daniel, go with them and secure the perimeter.”

Daniel nodded and climbed into the passenger seat.

My mother reversed the vehicle, the tires spinning on the wet gravel before gripping and tearing back up the path.

I turned to Marcus, who was standing over the unconscious mercenary on the dock.

“He’s out,” Marcus said, kicking the man’s weapon into the river. “How do you want to play this?”

“We use the cellar entrance,” I said, pulling my sidearm from my belt. “We go corridor by corridor.”

The rain beat down on us as we ran toward the back of the mansion.

We reached the heavy oak door of the historic stone cellar.

I slipped my key into the brass lock, turning it slowly.

It clicked open, and we stepped into the cold, damp air of the lower level.

The room smelled of old stone, dust, and aged wine.

“Keep your eyes on the shadows,” I whispered.