"Gideon's smile was sharper than his teeth."

The Wicke estate loomed before me like a monument to power and old money, its Gothic silhouette cutting against the darkening sky. Tall iron gates swung open without a sound, the metal glinting beneath wrought-iron lanterns that cast dancing shadows across the entrance. The craftsmanship was exquisite-each bar twisted into elegant spirals, topped with spearheads that gleamed like fangs.

Beyond the gates, the drive stretched long and winding through ...