"Hello?" she whispered. No answer.​She moved toward her bedroom, driven by a terrifying need to know. She reached for the light switch, but her hand stopped in mid-air.​There, sprawled across her white duvet, was a man.​He was dressed in dark, expensive clothes that seemed to swallow the light. But it was his face that made her blood turn to ice. He was wearing a mask—a sleek, terrifying tactical mask that covered everything but his eyes. And those eyes... they were a piercing, frozen grey, watching her with the predatory patience of a mountain lion.​Isadora’s mouth opened, and a piercing scream tore from her throat. "Help! Someone—"​In a blur of motion that her eyes could barely track, the man was off the bed. He was across the room in a heartbeat.​"Silence," he commanded. It wasn't a request; it was an ultimatum.​Before she could scream again, his large, gloved hand clamped firmly over her mouth. He was immensely strong, his body like a wall of heated iron pressing her back against the doorframe. She struggled, her small fists thumping against his chest, but it was like hitting a statue.​"Shh," he hissed, his face inches from hers. The mask was cold against her skin. "I told them you were the one. Don't make me a liar, Isadora."​How did he know her name?She felt a sharp, stinging prick—a needle?​"Sleep now, mi Reina," the voice murmured, strangely gentle despite the violence of the moment. "The world is changing tonight."