AUTHORS POV

The part of the warehouse Pedro’s men had taken George , Tessa and Aunt Norah to had sunlight filter through the high, narrow window of the abandoned warehouse office, casting long shards of golden beams across the concrete floor.

Tessa stood clutching her aunt Norah’s arm, her pulse hammering in her ears.

George hovered beside them, still wincing from his bindings but determined to guide their escape.

Then, from the main corridor, came the ominous echo of boots on metal grating.

Pedro’s voice rang out, cold and precise: “Tessa—how quaint. I wondered how long it would take for you to find her.”

Tessa’s breath caught. She tightened her...