DIAN

The Spark &

FIVE: Th

lty kills quicke

– RICCI TER

h of Croce Boule

oreau gala. In Ricci culture, that

table, a heavy crystal tumbler sweating in his hand. No music. No conversation. O

of him wa

of a girl in

it: a burnt

is

V

floors beneath a former cathedral, b

hey didn't expect-I w

. I owed her. I owed her mother. And if Siena's mother rea

the server room in le

ng screen bu

ord?

naR

r blink

ame: R

EARLIER

my guest room in the Moreau mansion

al storm was i

ng my mother gave me before she died. I used to th

reau west wing. A place N

't been touched

idor and found the door-number

study. Dust cloaked the

rapped in red leather and

Bo

. And the w

RED

diary. It

es, payoffs, af

mother-had writ

sted beside R

s bought w

romised wit

it all: a name scri

OLAI

t: "do no

eath

ndwriting, a newer

s book, protect

E.

HT – MOR

his office lik

ived ten minutes ag

dark hair, tied

a's

a

cci's. We'll take he

tching Nikolai grip the paper s

isappear," Luci

not a

Ricci

s not

wil

drawer shut. "Find t

–

teps thunder

triggered a

ra. My boots slipped on the marble as I turned a sh

swu

with my elbow, grabbed his gun an

't a k

ght, I w

unning and slipped into a

screamed

I didn't breathe un

BACK IN

n't s

under my pillow

knew-and destroy everything-or

the kno

the

wi

back th

stood there,

KO

cent in the m

fr

nt me yo

nctively moved

e to... what

N

Rain on my jacke

you that you're

er eyes. "I wa

Ricci. Not

eath h

ou came?" sh

dn't st

if I told you I

k you to giv

said it cou

epped

you to burn

– HE

cracked

oaked, hau

of the gala, not the

Barely holdi

monster,"

kno

k I might b

d brush

e how deep it g

ld've

I said,