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Burn in hell, Alistair.

As it turned out, he was right. Thiswasa special night. One she would never forget.

Smoke wafted up the stairwell behind her. Flames licked the walls, crawling out of the basement like a living thing, seeking her destruction. It was a wild creature set loose on the world. Its many limbs clawed at the ceiling, creeping over her head, hunting her. Too late. Nothing could stop her now. Freedom was just within her reach.

Clang.Five.

She raced through the great room, bolting for the foyer with its soaring pillars and ornate chandelier. Not so long ago, her lover had gifted her with this mansion. Little did she know the horrors she would experience inside.

Clang.Six.

With her blistered hand on the doorknob, she hesitated. Drew a smoky breath.

She threw a look over her shoulder. No guard rushed forward. No domineering hand took hold of her, keeping her from her destination.

Clang.Seven.

Could it be? Was this real? Tears burned her eyes. It seemed impossible, surreal. Surely, at any moment, she’d wake from this dream and find herself back on that sacrificial altar.

Clang.Eight.

She threw open the front door and sprinted down the marble porch steps. Her bare feet stung, chafed from the time she’d spent in her cell. Still, she didn’t slow. Across the curving drive, she raced. Past the dancing fountain with the cherubs she’d once found enchanting. Past the manicured lawn and lush hedges.

Nine.

She counted the remaining chimes in her head.

Finally, at the edge of the sprawling property, she spun and stared back at the mansion. Back at her home. Her prison.

Ten.

Flames painted the sky. The fire was greedy, consuming anything that dared to stand in its path.

No one emerged from the burning building.

Blue-green sparks flashed in the windows, the color unnatural, tainted with her lover’s evil experiments. Brighter, higher, the fire burned. The light seared her retinas. An explosion ignited the night sky. Energy slammed into her body. Tossed her to the ground. Air rushed from her lungs, and she rolled to her knees to peer at the crumbling visage that was once her home.

Eleven.

This really was happening.

She held up the dagger she still clasped in her hand, surprised to find it there. Foreign words were etched into the blade. The red stone at its center gleamed, glaring at her. It was the same dagger he’d attempted to plunge into her heart. Alistair had failed. Vivian prevailed. At the realization, heavy chains lifted from her shoulders. She drew a deep breath. The first she’d taken in years.

Laughter bubbled in her chest. She threw open her arms and turned her face to the sky, bathing in the stars.

She strained her sensitive ears, picking up a faint chorus of bells in the distance.

Twelve chimes. Midnight.

Free. She was free.

One

“Armond,hurry with that dress,s’il te plaît.” Vivian Laurent perched on the tufted cushion before her dressing table, calling over her shoulder, “Liam could be here at any moment.”

Tonight, the Black Widow lured the sweetest of prey into her web.

She checked the time, glancing at the porcelain clock on her bedroom mantle, once a beautiful piece of nineteenth-century artwork, the first she could afford on a burlesque dancer’s salary. Now, it was an ugly thing, with its soot-stained face and melted filigree. Still, it chimed the most beautiful of melodies at midnight. It was her most prized possession.