nna

lank wall of the

passed since

hand when the nurses enter. He brings me fresh water and smooths my hair. The

ry touch, my

my discharge, th

of white lilies, the traditional flowers of dea

he bedside table, arranging

ry for your

leans in close, her cloying perfume suffocat

ssion, didn't you? You

ad. Who do you think the Commission will believe-t

r eyes gleaming wi

your father with proof of his sche

You were his vault. And

t. I snatch the heavy glass of water from

shatters against the wall, rainin

alks out of the room, her hee

his territory; he had murdered our child to bury the evidence of his crime. In the silence, an old and dormant thing stirred in my blood: the code of Vendetta. The architecture of my memor

ly encrypted,

e click

ap

oice comes through the speak

ly learned your

broken glass

swallow both the Falcone an

slow, heavy measure of his breathing

ou absolute su

he says. "And brin

ll before he

ter, holding my discharge

to go

sking the thing

raight to the kitchen the moment we arrive. He ties an apron around hi

tching his broad shoulders

Silas?" I ask, my voice

k goes rigid, the muscles

e resumes his work, the knife hitting the cutting board with a f

my chest, leaning a

dream las

ft and hollow, dev

k. She was crying. She kept asking

itchen knife he had just set down o

o keep her co

ried to pull it free, his grip failed, and the handle struck the edge of the marble countertop.

s-a blade separating his

, that blade