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Szolsvár Castle, Gemenc Forest, Hungary

The same day

Nine thousand miles away, in an ancient fortress buried deep in the woodland, the telephone rings. Its chime echoes through sprawling gothic caverns, lonely and stark.

Billionaire Voldan Cane receives it.

Anticipation climbs in his throat. ‘Is it done?’ he rasps.

The voice makes him wait. Eventually, it comes.

‘Yes. It is done.’

Voldan exhales. A wheezing moan escapes where the skin between his top lip and his nose has ruptured. His bruised heart burns.

It is done.

The call is terminated. Voldan tries to smile but it is hard. The movement tugs at his ruined features, his sallow skin pitted as fruit peel. Normally he avoids his tortured image—mirrors have long been banished from these rooms—but here, in the high, arched windows of Szolsvár’s Great Hall, he catches a flash of the man he used to be: handsome, wealthy, coveted … happy.

One out of four isn’t bad.

The panes are faded and cobwebbed with age. Only Voldan’s eyes betray the depths of his satisfaction. It is done.

He backs away from his reflection and the shadows swallow him whole.