SHADOWS BENEATH THE HEIRLOOM VEIL

"The conservatory!" Eleanor choked out, coughing against the thickening black smoke that was rapidly consuming the second-floor ceiling. "The glass walkway to the gardens!"

Arthur didn't hesitate. Shifting Lily’s weight to his chest and gripping his mother's elbow, he turned away from the blazing grand staircase and sprinted down the narrow east corridor toward the old Victorian greenhouse attached to the manor. The heat behind them was blistering, singing the wool of his suit and filling the air with the smell of burning varnish and melting crystal.

They burst through the heavy brass-and-glass double doors into the conservatory. The temperature plummeted instantly from the inferno of the house to the icy, damp chill of the storm. Rain hammered furiously against hundreds of leaded glass panes above, lightning illuminating the jungle of exotic palms, hanging ferns, and marble statues that Eleanor had cultivated for forty years.

At the far end of the long glass pavilion, near the iron gates leading out to the rose garden, stood a shadowy figure holding a crowbar.

Arthur pushed Lily behind a massive stone planter and stepped forward, ready to kill with his bare hands. "Step away from those gates!"

The figure spun around, dropping the crowbar with a heavy clang against the wet terracotta tiles. The lightning flashed, illuminating a young woman in a drenched uniform—it was Hannah, the estate’s junior housekeeper, her face pale with terror.

"Mr. Sterling!" she cried, her voice trembling. "I saw the smoke from the staff cottages! The front gates were chained from the outside, and two men in an unmarked truck were blocking the drive! I had to smash through the service gate to get in!"

"Did they see you?" Arthur demanded, rushing forward, Eleanor and Lily following close behind.

"I don't think so, sir, but they're cutting the estate phone lines near the gatehouse!" Hannah stammered, pulling open the iron garden gate that she had just pried loose. "We have to get to the woods!"

Before they could step through the threshold into the rain, the glass ceiling above them exploded.

A high-powered rifle bullet shattered the heavy pane directly above Hannah's head, raining dagger-like shards of glass down onto the terracotta floor. Hannah screamed, collapsing as a shard sliced across her forearm.

Arthur dragged his family down behind the heavy concrete basin of the central fountain. Looking through the shattered glass into the dark, rain-swept garden, Arthur saw the red laser dot of a rifle scope dancing across the stone pillars.

Claire’s men weren't just waiting for the house to burn. They were stationed on the ridge, picking off anyone who made it out alive.

Arthur looked at the small iron crowbar lying five feet away on the wet tiles, then down at Lily, who was trembling so violently her teeth were chattering.

"Daddy," she whispered, looking up at him with those big, solemn hazel eyes. "Are we going to see Mommy tonight?"

Arthur’s heart broke, and in that shattered space, a cold, lethal resolve took over. He looked at Hannah and his mother. "When I draw their fire, you take Lily through the low drainage tunnel behind the azaleas. It leads out past the perimeter wall."