Lightning lit the room, catching the terrified, rain-slicked face of Martin Cole. In one hand he held a crowbar. In the other, the narrow mahogany box that held my father’s most prized possession: the solid gold challenge coin, a red compass over a black wave.

“Serena… I didn’t want to,” Cole stammered, stepping back. “He made me.”

“Put the box down, Martin.”

“You don’t understand what this is!” His voice cracked. “It’s not just a coin. If I don’t bring it to him, he’ll ruin me. He’ll ruin your mother!”

That froze me for a fraction of a second. My mother?

Cole seized the hesitation and lunged. He didn’t swing the crowbar at me — he hurled it at the floor-to-ceiling mirror behind me. The glass shattered in an explosive crash, raining razor shards.