Elena’s Point Of View

The grand doors of the Sinclair Estate loomed before me, their polished mahogany surfaces reflecting the cold, unfeeling glow of the chandelier above. I stood there for a moment, my breath steady, my fingers flexing at my sides. In. I exhaled sharply. Out. My lungs filled with the crisp night air, my pulse thrumming in my veins like a war drum. I reached for the handle, the metal cold beneath my touch, and pushed the door open.

The moment I stepped inside, the heavy ...