The Voss estate had always looked like a fortress pretending to be a home.High stone walls, wrought-iron gates, imported trees that never quite rooted in the local soil. From the air, it resembled a sigil more than a residence—geometry and money laid down in careful, controlling lines.Seraphina Voss sat at the center of it, in a study that smelled like old leather and older secrets, and watched Lyra Hale’s life assemble itself on a screen.“Go back,” she said.The man at the desk—mid-forties, human, unremarkable dark suit—clicked his mouse. The feed reversed a few seconds, then froze on a grainy city camera still: Lyra exiting a taxi, white coat over scrubs, hair pulled back too tight, a to-go coffee in one hand and a file in the other.Public footage. Legally obtained. It's entirely boring.Seraphina zoomed in anyway.Lyra’s face pixellated, then sharpened as far as the camera’s cheap lens allowed. Jaw set, eyes flat with fatigue. No makeup. Nothing adornment-like visible—no jewelr
Last Updated : 2026-04-16 Read more