The car glided down the long, tree-lined driveway, and Daniel barely noticed the manicured hedges and imported marble fountains flashing past. His mind was elsewhere, stuck somewhere between memory and hunger.
Regina.
He shouldn't be thinking about her like this. Not when he was about to walk into a battlefield.
He shifted uncomfortably in the back seat, staring out the window, willing the images to evaporate. His fingers curled against his thigh.
A low, involuntary sound clawed up his throat. A moan or a curse—he couldn't tell.
The driver cleared his throat awkwardly.
"We've arrived, sir."
Daniel snapped back to himself, the heat crawling up his neck immediately replaced by cold, hard dread. He straightened his jacket, exhaled sharply, and stepped out of the car.
The Smith estate stood in front of him like a fortress, sprawling, white, and sterile—a perfect facade for a family that smiled in public and bled each other dry in private.
⸻
