SIX HOURS LATER, WE'RE NO CLOSER to finding out where Maurizio died or how he even died.

We're looking through lists of the dead, bleary-eyed and half-asleep, even though it's almost nine, when a man in a black jacket bursts through the door.

Hidden by the towers of books, I appear to be the only one who notices at first. His hair is dark and slicked back, he's handsome enough that the librarian seems a little dazed, and he's talking with an Italian accent.

An Italian accent.

The realization strikes me as I notice the shape of a gun holster at his hip.

Instantly, I know who he is. A Genovese. Chasing us, from the other side of the world. Who shot at us last night, who killed Alessandro. Fury blazes in me, hot, fast. I want to walk up to him and-

I shake my head. What am I thinking? I've never been a violent person, but what the Genoveses have done to us . . . maybe they deserve it.

The librarian nods and points in our direction. The man sees me, and for a moment, our eyes lock as he strides towards our hidden corner.

Oh.

Shit.

"Dominic," I snap, shoving him. "Wake the fuck up. Where's your gun?"

He's too slow to respond, but Angel reacts instantly. She pulls out a Beretta and as soon as the Genovese turns the corner, she shoots him in the head.

I'm too stunned to scream.

"Look away, Cade," she says harshly.

There was no sound, nothing, so she must have a silencer on her gun. As the man sinks to his knees, already dead, Angel braces him. Blood leaks from his forehead, and she peels off his jacket and wraps it around his face. Hiding the evidence of his death.

I can't help it. I replay the moment, his eyes rolling back, the cold look in Angel's eyes as she pulled the trigger without hesitation, without knowing who was going to turn that corner.

She killed him. Right in the middle of the library.

I vomit all over the brown carpet.

Dominic grabs me roughly and drags me into the family bathroom. "Are you out of your mind?" he seethes.

I wipe my lips with my sleeve, tears in my eyes. I've seen two people killed in two days. I was supposed to help Angel find Crown Jewels. I wasn't supposed to be a part of this-this slaughter, this murder.

Once was enough. This . . . this is too much. Too fast.

"I-" I start, but Dominic presses me back onto the wall. Cold tile touches my back. I swallow the flavor of bile.

"What if you just go," he hisses. "Go and don't come back. Leave Angel alone. Leave me alone. Just get the hell away from here and don't tell anyone. I'll give you money, okay? Take it and get the fuck away. Go back to where you came from."

Stunned, I blink. Maybe Dominic and I haven't liked each other, but I thought maybe I had grown him.

Fueled by sudden anger, I say, "No. I'm a part of this, and you need me, whether you like it or not."

Dominic gives me a withering look. This close, I can see the flecks of blue in his dark eyes, the thickness of his brows, the crooked edge of his nose. He is handsome, muscular. But the one girl he wants doesn't want him. Suddenly, I understand: He's jealous.

I realized yesterday that he was in love with Angel. Of course he wants me gone.

Dominic's grip loosens. He knows I'm right. Whether he hates me or not, they can't find what they're looking for without me.

"Clean yourself up," he spits at me, slamming the door shut.

Left alone in the bathroom, I move to the mirror and stare at myself. The natural blonde of my hair is growing back in the roots. The brown locks are dirty, tangled. My face seems hollowed out, and there are grooves beneath my pale blue eyes.

I don't look so good. I rinse my mouth out with water and wash my hands before leaving.

Angel is alone when I walk back out, her face expressionless. "We have to go now," she explains. "If he came, there'll be others soon."

I don't ask about what she did with the body. She doesn't offer.

I follow her outside into an alley, breathing in the smoky air, and we take off in the van. I feel like screaming. I feel like crying. I don't know what to do with myself, how to feel. All I can think of is that cold, dead expression on Angel's face as she pulled out her gun and shot the Genovese in the head.

In the car, she seems blank. Empty. She doesn't meet my eyes, or anyone else's.

As we arrive at a hotel, she exits the car. She orders four rooms. For a moment, I am puzzled, until I realize she has given each of us a separate room.

The clerk hands each our keys and without waiting, Angel goes up the stairs.

No one else seems to notice the fact that Angel seems . . . hollow. But as we ride up the elevator, I can't stop thinking about it. Why is she acting like this? Why is she pulling away? She seems like a stranger.

I enter the room, and I stop thinking about it. It feels so good to just lay on a crisp white bed and let the world fall away. To sleep.

And so that's what I do. Everything dissolves into mist and I close my eyes. Unlike last night, I don't dream of blood and clenched fists and Angel's fists. I dream of nothing, and it's peaceful but . . . I miss seeing Angel's face in my dreams.

WHEN I WAKE UP, I CHECK the alarm clock. It's been three hours, and my face is a mess. I strip down and jump into the shower.

My face is much brighter when I come out, and my hair is cleaner, straighter. But there's something about my appearance I don't like. Something that bothers me.

When I spot the scissors in the bathroom drawer, I know exactly how to fix it.

Forty minutes later, I gather up my courage and knock on the door to Angel's room. I know she's inside, I know she must be there, but . . . she doesn't answer. I wait for at least five minutes, but no sound comes from within, even when I knock again.

Is she sleeping? Is she showering?

I finally decide to leave when I hear her talk. It sounds like she's on the phone, and she seems angry, upset. She sounds like-like she's being forced to do something she doesn't want to do. She's talking to a man named John.

I know it's wrong to eavesdrop, but I can't help. The voices eventually quiet, and I go back to my room. What did I just hear? What is Angel being blackmailed for?

Probably not a good idea to think too hard about it. Now, it's close to one in the morning and a pang of hunger hits me. I realize I've eaten close to nothing all day, so I shove my feet into slippers and shuffle out the door. Hopefully there'll be a vending machine somewhere.

As soon as I step out into the hallway, I hear moaning. The sound of fast breathing, a door clicking.

My eyes fall on Maria, her silky brown hair in a topknot. She is being pinned to the wall by Angel, whose long black hair is scraped back into a bun. They're both wearing white sleeveless shirts, and for a second, I feel as though I'm somewhere else. Somewhere I shouldn't be.

I must make a sound in my throat, because Angel looks up.

But all she does is give me a lazy smirk and she pushes the door to Maria's room open wider. And slams it shut. I am left alone in the empty hallway. Feeling sick to my stomach.

>>>

I'm sorry about this one. Time for some puzzle pieces to fall into place.

Love you all!

From the moon and back,
Sarai