That morning, as sunlight crept through the curtains, Dante woke before Lyra and slipped out quietly.
An hour later, the bedroom door eased open. A maid entered, placing a fresh set of clothes beside the bed.
She gasped and leapt back when Lyra suddenly bolted upright. Before she could react, Lyra rushed out of the room.
Lyra paused only for a heartbeat in the hallway, glancing left and right. When she spotted the staircase, she ran down it without hesitation.
The bungalow was sprawling and unfamiliar, and panic drove her toward the nearest exit she could find.
She flung the door open, her foot catching the frame. She stumbled blindly forward and crashed into a pair of boots.
The owner jumped back just in time.
He reached out, offering his hand. "Are you all right?"
Lyra recoiled the moment she noticed the long rifle slung over his shoulder.
"No… don't come any closer!"
