IRIS’S POVThe Summer House didn't need high-tech sensors to feel dangerous. It had the weight of a century of misery pressed into its floorboards. As the front door hung off its hinges, the rain began to lash into the foyer, turning the fine layer of dust into a muddy slurry. The man in the gold mask didn't move like a soldier; he moved like a debt collector who had finally lost his patience.Darius stepped in front of me, his body a solid, warm wall of charcoal wool and muscle. I could feel the heat radiating off him, a fierce, protective energy that was far more grounding than any corporate bond. He didn't reach for a weapon. He didn't need to. He just stood there, his hands loose at his sides, looking at the intruders with a bored, lethal contempt that made my heart hammer a frantic rhythm against my ribs."Sterling really has a flare for the dramatic, doesn't he?" I said, my voice cutting through the sound of the rain with a sharp, biting sarcasm. I tucked the leather ledger unde
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