ZYRAN’S POV

My head throbbed with a sharp pain.

I opened my eyes slowly. The ceiling of my private study came into view, I lay flat on the floor. My chest heaved, and my shirt was soaked with sweat. The memory of the burning car and the ashes was fresh in my mind, making my hands shake.

I pushed myself up off the floor, my breathing was heavy.

"Roosevelt," I rasped, my voice hoarse.

I looked around the room, the study was completely empty.

I glanced at the door, It was wide open.

I held the table to steady myself.

I patted my pockets. The brass key was gone. She...