Its exterior is a sleek composition of glass, steel, and concrete. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrap around the structure, reflecting the vast array of trees. The design is angular and minimalist, with clean lines and sharp edges, giving it a futuristic, fortress-like presence. A flat roof stretches out like a platform, some sections overhanging to create shaded patios or dramatic cantilevers. The entrance is grand yet understated—an oversized pivoting door set into a wall of matte-black metal, flanked by soft lighting that glows.
Dominic’s eyebrows touch his hairline as he studies the mansion before turning his attention to Aria. “Where the hell are we?”
Aria simply turns a coy smile—one that makes me feel distinctly uneasy—on him and gestures for us to follow her.
“Come,” she instructs, stalking up the steps and entering through the front door.
We don’t immediately follow.
“Why am I oddly terrified right now?” Beckett ponders.
“Because we’re at another mansion in the middle of nowhere?” I suggest dryly.
“I wish I had my stabby knife with me,” Zane grumbles somewhat petulantly. He kicks at a loose pebble on the driveway, sending it flying.
Dorm pats his shoulder. “I’m sure you can find another weapon to stab people with.”
Zane perks up. “Really? You mean it?”
“Errr…yes. The world is your oyster, blah blah blah. You can stab whomever you want with whatever you want, if you put your mind to it. Blah blah blah.” Dom waves a hand in the air flippantly.
“Besides, you probably already have at least two stabby knives on you,” Beckett drawls. “Don’t you shove them up your?—”
“Ew, gross.” Dom wrinkles his nose.
“Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.” Zane shrugs and then winks.
I appreciate their attempt to lighten the mood, but I don’t think anything can wrench me out of my horrid thoughts. I take a deep breath, steeling myself, then hurry to follow Aria. She mentioned we’re attending another party, yet there doesn’t appear to be anyone here. Is this a trick?
Beckett catches up to me instantly and captures my right hand in his. Absently, he strokes his thumb across my knuckles, even as his head remains on a constant swivel, studying our surroundings.
“Maybe Aria’s relocating us,” he murmurs, and his multicolored eyes lock on mine, the intention in them clear.
Maybe she knows about Ryker.
Panic crashes through me instantly, but I work to stifle my reaction, to hide it behind an impenetrable mask.
No, she can’t possibly know about Ryker.
Right?
We enter a foyer as grand as the rest of the mansion, with a sweeping staircase leading to a mezzanine overhead.
Aria stands in the center of the room, in animated conversation with a gray-haired man. She stops when she sees us and turns with a wide, beatific grin. “I’m so excited for you to see me in action,” she says, that smile stretching but never reaching her eyes.
“What the hell is going on here? Where are we?” I demand.
Aria blinks before redirecting her attention to the unfamiliar man. She waves a hand in the air and murmurs, “That’s all I need for now, Felipe. Please make sure it’s done.”
“Right away, Divine One.” He bows his head subserviently and hurries away, ascending the staircase.
I gape at her. “He knows your identity?”
“Of course.” Aria clasps her hands primly in front of herself. “He’s one of the best party planners in the state.”
Um…
Is that supposed to answer my question?