Helena threw open the great oak front doors with such force they slammed against the interior walls with a sound like thunder. She stumbled into the entrance hall, her lungs burning, her heart a frantic animal trapped behind her ribs.
Then she stopped.
She stopped so violently, so abruptly, that Leonidas nearly plowed into her back, his own breath coming in ragged gasps. But Leonidas didn't collide with her.
He froze mid stride, his entire body locking up as if he had been turned to stone. A strangled, horrified noise died in his throat.
The entrance hall of the Starlight household once a place of dignified elegance and sacred family tradition had been transformed into something obscene.
Something profane.
Rex Rexilion was sitting in one of the massive velvet armchairs by the long window. He wasn't just lounging; he was sprawled in a display of casual, predatory ownership.
