The safehouse was an industrial loft in Red Hook, Brooklyn–far from the glittering skyline of Manhattan where Victoria Vance had once reigned as a queen. To the woman now calling herself “Elena,” it was just a strange, silent box funded by a man she didn’t know named Dominic Valerius.
“It’s temporary,” Marcus Thorne said, locking the heavy steel door behind them. “Just until you feel… settled.”
Elena wandered the room, hugging her wool cardigan tight. Her gaze landed on a dust-covered upright piano in the corner. A magnetic pull, irrational and terrifying, drew her toward it. She sat down, her fingers hovering over the keys.
Without a conscious thought, her hands struck a chord. Then another. Then a complex, haunting arpeggio that filled the empty loft. It was the opening of “The Serpent’s Coil,” though she had no name for the melody.
Elena gasped and snatched her hands back as if the keys were hot iron. She stood up, knocking the bench over. “How did I do that?” she whispered, trembling. “I don’t know music. I don’t know anything.”
Marcus stepped forward, his heart breaking. He saw the “Imposter Syndrome” taking root–she felt like a stranger in her own body.
“You took lessons as a child,” Marcus lied smoothly, becoming the jailer he swore he’d never be. “Muscle memory is a powerful thing, Elena. Don’t let it scare you. You’re safe here.”
Elena looked at him, trusting him implicitly because he was her only tether to the world. She didn’t notice that Marcus had locked the deadbolt from the inside.