Whatever game was unfolding around her, Lucian was already somewhere inside it.
And tomorrow, she had a feeling he was going to be much harder to ignore.
That thought followed Allison up the sweeping staircase of the Morrison estate like a second shadow.
The mansion was too quiet tonight.
Not peaceful. Never peaceful.
It was the kind of quiet that only existed in wealthy houses where too many people were hiding too many things. The chandeliers glowed warmly overhead, polished marble reflecting soft gold light, every surface immaculate, every corner arranged to suggest taste, legacy, control.
A beautiful lie.
Allison moved through it in silence, the emerald clutch still in her hand, her heels whispering over the floor.
Tomorrow night, this place would be full of powerful people, expensive perfume, crystal glasses, and polite smiles sharpened into weapons.
Tomorrow night, she would tear the Morrison mask off in front of all of them.
But tonight—
