The heavy oak doors of Vane Manor clicked shut, locking out the cold night air and the dangers of the city. Clara walked into the warm, quiet library with her heart beating fast against her ribs. In her hands, she held the worn brown leather journal that belonged to her late mother. The small, red blinking light of the hidden tracking bug had already been pulled out and smashed to pieces by Silas's steady hands inside the gallery, leaving them safe for the moment. But the danger was far from over.

Lucian walked ahead of her, his dark suit jacket draped over his broad arm as he unbuttoned his collar....