A sudden, violent crack of thunder, so loud it seemed to shake the very foundations of the castle, ripped Suzy from a shallow, tormented sleep. She jolted upright in the vast, canopied bed, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs, a gasp caught in her throat. Rain lashed against the tall windows of the bedchamber, driven by a howling wind, each gust sounding like a mournful wail.
She was drenched in sweat, her silk nightgown clinging unpleasantly to her skin despite the chill in the air. The dream… she had fallen back into that same terrible dream. The blood, Byron's mad, triumphant laughter, and the final, deafening bang. Ryan… oh, God, Ryan… lying so still on the cold, unforgiving ground. The image was burned into the back of her eyelids, a horrific afterimage that refused to fade.