Catherine's POV
My heart was a frantic drum in my chest as Julian led the way, his movements fluid and predatory, while Gabriel brought up the rear, his eyes darting toward every shadow.
"Step exactly where I step," Julian whispered, his voice barely a vibration in the dark. "The floorboards near the mahogany pedestal are original; they'll groan if you breathe on them too hard."
I nodded, clutching the strap of my singlet. I was still reeling from the scene in Julian's room—the image of my mother being marched away like a prisoner burned behind my eyelids. We were moving through the service corridor.
We were nearly at the door that led to the mudroom—our final hurdle before the side exit—when my fingers slipped. The adrenaline had made my palms slick with sweat, and my phone slipped from my grasp.
Clang.
The sound was deafening. In the hollow, midnight silence of the Vaughn estate, it sounded like a grenade going off. We all froze, the air turning to ice in our lungs.
