The weight of Erick's revelation settled on Ava like a shroud. The mansion, once a brooding curiosity, now felt like a cage, its grandeur masking a sinister purpose. Fear coiled in her gut, a viper awakened from its slumber.
"What kind of talent?" she managed to ask, her voice barely a tremor above a whisper. The playful glint in Erick's eyes had vanished, replaced by a cold, assessing stare.
"Let's just say," he said, leaning closer, his voice a husky murmur, "you have a knack for finding things. Things most people overlook."
A shiver ran down Ava's spine. The implication hung heavy in the air. Was she supposed to be a spy? A thief? The thought of becoming entangled in Erick's clandestine world terrified her.
"I... I can't do this," she stammered, pushing herself away from the warmth of the fire and his...