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The seal was unmistakable gold, with the snarling wolf of the Rhodes bloodline carved into its face like a brand.

She didn’t open it in the hallway. Not under the cameras. Not with Carlton standing like a statue ten feet away, pretending not to watch. She nodded once, tucked the paper into the inside pocket of her coat, and walked away.

The corridors of the Callahan estate twisted like a maze ornate, silent, and far too symmetrical. Every painting was of a man in power. Not a ...

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