Channeling the Rage

BEATRIX'S POINT OF VIEW

The cold drafts of the mansion’s lower levels bit through my damp clothes. I followed Octavia’s silhouette down the sweeping staircase, venturing deeper into the subterranean belly of the estate. We bypassed the wine cellars and the utility corridors, moving into a secluded, silent wing. She stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. She pulled a brass key from her silk robe