The black Mercedes cut through the pre-dawn darkness on the Long Island Expressway, tires hissing over wet asphalt. Isabella sat in the back seat with her wrists zip-tied in front of her, Viktor’s suit jacket draped over her shoulders to hide the ruined gown. She had not been given permission to speak. The driver, Luka, never once glanced in the rear-view mirror.
They turned off onto a private road flanked by skeletal oaks. At the end waited a modern fortress of glass and steel perched above the Atlantic, every light in the house blazing like a challenge. When the car stopped, Viktor finally broke the silence.
“Inside. Do not make me carry you.”
She walked. The marble foyer was cold under her bare feet. Luka peeled off toward a side corridor; Viktor’s hand settled between her shoulder b
