Page 79 of Sweet Nightmare

Every muscle in my body aches from the flight and the hours I’ve spent folded into the back seat of an SUV. I need a shower, my skincare routine, and a bed.

Preferably in that order.

And approximately twelve uninterrupted hours without another human being breathing in my direction.

“We’re here.”

Minho barely finishes speaking before the SUV swerves sharply.

Mika reacts faster than I do, grabbing the seat with one hand and catching me with her other arm.

I don’t react.

Minho quickly corrects the wheel and looks at us through the rearview mirror.

“Sorry.” He mutters looking embarrassed.

A bead of sweat glistens between his bushy eyebrows.

He’s nervous.

A second later, he proves it by clearing his throat before turning onto a narrow private road.

When I start getting impatient, that’s when I see the black iron gates with the letters W and S in the center.

Even from here, I can see how every curve in the iron has been shaped like a delicate snowflake. The patterns almost disappear into the darkness until our headlights catch them.

Minho stops beside a small black security panel and enters a code and only then do the gates slowly begin to open.

And for the second time tonight...I forget how to breathe.

“Oh.”

“Yeah...oh.”

Mika’s voice drops to a whisper.

For once, neither of us has anything sarcastic to say.

The SUV rolls forward, and the property reveals itself one breathtaking piece at a time.

First, the mountain.

Then, the mansion.

The place takes up half the mountainside, its dark stone walls broken by clean architectural lines and enormous glass windows. Steel frames the structure, lending it a sharp, modern elegance that somehow makes the entire thing look even more intimidating.

Warm golden light spills through the glass.

Against all that snow and darkness, it looks like something stolen from a fairy tale.

The kind where the prince is probably cursed, the forest is definitely haunted, and everyone has unresolved childhood trauma.

My kind of story, actually.

Snow blankets the terraces and rooftops in thick, untouched layers, softening the mansion's severe lines until the entire estate resembles something painted by an artist with an unhealthy obsession with winter.

Beyond it, a valley stretches beneath us.