Chapter 5 - The Mezzanine Observer
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Slow, heavy footsteps descended the spiral staircase leading from the private balcony above.
Damian Ricci stepped into the dim moonlight filtering through the stained glass window at the end of the hall. He was alone. No Luca. No bodyguards.
He didn't have his gun drawn, but his dark eyes were burning with a terrifying, ecstatic intensity.
"The Viper's Talon," Damian said softly, stopping six feet away from her. He looked down at the unconscious capo lying on the floor, then back up at the quiet maid in her stained apron. "A strike known only to the elite shadows of the old Sicilian families. Designed to paralyze the target for twelve minutes by cutting off the carotid neural pathway."
Wren slowly shifted her feet, sliding into a low, lethal stance. Her submissive posture vanished entirely. Her head lifted, revealing eyes that were sharp, dark, and utterly fearless.
"You shouldn't have been watching, Mr. Ricci," Wren said, her voice dropping into a smooth, melodic husk that carried no trace of her previous accent.
Damian let out a low, breathless laugh. "Five years. I spent five bloody years searching every city in Europe and North America for the woman who saved my life in Palermo."
He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out the scratched silver lighter. He held it up between them, the moonlight catching the scorched metal.
"I asked every boss, every informant, every mercenary from Rome to New York," Damian continued, taking a slow step toward her. "They told me the Ghost of Palermo was a myth. A fairy tale invented by a dying man."
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He looked at her bruised knees through her torn stockings, then at the lethal posture of her arms.
"And all this time, the phantom who slaughtered three Donati assassins in thirty seconds was scrubbing my champagne off the floor."
