Victoria floated high above the mansion, suspended effortlessly in the night sky.
The wind curled around her body, crimson strands of hair flowing like living flame down her back. Each movement of her hair shimmered faintly under the moonlight, as if touched by embers.
Her eyes burned the same shade of red — deep, luminous, furious.
She was breathtaking.
Not in a gentle way.
In a catastrophic way.
Her outfit clung to her figure in dark crimson and black fabric, sculpted to her body like ceremonial battle attire. The material hugged her waist and hips tightly, while the upper design dipped just enough to reveal the soft curve of her cleavage without appearing fragile. It was not designed for seduction.
The fabric around her thighs shifted with the wind, revealing glimpses of pale skin beneath.
She looked like destruction wrapped in elegance.
Her crimson eyes narrowed.
She sensed it.
That presence.
Inside the mansion.
Familiar.
Infuriating.
