Minute specks of sand littered the floor of the seaside cottage. A faint breeze carried the scent of salt through the open window. Elias Veyne sighed, stretching lazily on his couch, his eyes catching the scattered grains.

  "Must have come from my boots," he muttered, rubbing his temples. But the moment he acknowledged the mess, unease gnawed at his gut. He shot off the couch, grabbed a cloth from the kitchen, and swept the sand into a pile. When he stood up again, the clock on the wall showed 3:59. The minute hand inched toward twelve.

  A single hour left.

  Elias made a mental note and rushed to the bathroom. The water was scalding, but he didn’t care. He scrubbed away the fatigue, trying to silence the thoughts that clawed at his mind. His life had changed too fast in the past two days. And in less than an hour, everything could change again.

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  His father’s old pipe sat on the wooden dresser—a relic of a man long gone, or so he had thought. Now, it was a clue, a warning, a key to something bigger than he could fathom.

  Dressing quickly, he grabbed his leather jacket and the set of keys from the table. One last look in the mirror, then he stepped outside, heading for the garage.

  There, waiting for him, was his custom-built V8 cruiser, a beast of metal and speed that had been his only real companion for years. The moment he kicked it to life, the deep growl of the engine steadied his nerves.

  As he sped down the coastal road, the wind whipping against him, one thought echoed in his mind.

  Everything was about to change.

  And this time, there would be no turning back.