Page 58 of To Catch A Rogue

"Let's just say I'm not inclined to wager good coin against you," Charlie replied. "Look sharp and expect anything. A single hint of rot, and everyone needs to get the hell out of there. If anything goes wrong we meet at the Bronze Horseman statue. Are we all prepared?"

Herbert primed his pistol. "Quite prepared, Master Charlie."

The Company of Rogues' butler was a man of many talents, according to Charlie. With his neatly pomaded hair, shoes that gleamed like a military man's, and exquisite manners, he looked more likely to swoon at the sight of blood than deal it. But Charlie assured her Herbert was an asset.

She and Blade exchanged a long, slow look. The palace was enormous, which required they break into pairs to explore it. Blade had insisted upon accompanying Herbert to "watch his fool back."

"Don't shoot anything unless absolutely necessary," Charlie told them. "This is a surveillance mission only. We don't want to alert anyone that we're here."

"Aye, commander." Blade winked at him.

Then he and Herbert vanished to the west of the building, leaving her and Charlie in the shadows as they watched the streets.

Nothing moved.

And she couldn't hold her tongue any longer.

"You think Lord Balfour is still working with Sergey Grigoriev?" she murmured, cupping her hands and blowing into them to warm her fingers.

"Gemma's rarely wrong."

Sergey.

He hadn't been at the ball, thank goodness. As prepared for him as she could be, she knew the first glimpse of her family's murderer would be a shock.

"Did you hear what Balfour said in his study about Obsidian being his trump card against Sergey? What did that mean?" She'd almost forgotten in all the mayhem last night, but the second they mentioned Sergey, it all came rushing back.

"Obsidian's memories were conditioned out of him by a doctor working for Balfour. But when we raided thedhampirheadquarters a couple of weeks ago, I found a file with Obsidian's name on it. The Grigoriev family tree is inside it, and he's been using the name Dmitri, though he can't remember if it belongs to him or if it was an alias he was last using. He thinks he might be the eldest Grigoriev."

She almost strained her neck, her head whipped toward him so swiftly. "What?H-he can't be. The whole family was murdered. Weren't they?"

But the others hadn't been home when the house was attacked.

No. Dmitri and Nikolai had been attending the opera with her father. Assassins swarmed their carriage, and they'd died.

Or had they?

What if one of them escaped?

Shock rampaged through her, and her vision swam as she heard Balfour's words again, "...not the only Grigoriev out there...."

"Are you all right?" Charlie's brow crinkled.

No. No, I'm not.

Did Obsidian look like Dima? Had there been even a hint of familiarity when she looked at him? She didn't know.

Lark drove her head between her knees, trying to still her racing heart. "Just need a moment. I'm... a little nervous. About the job."

A hand stroked up her spine, and she sensed Charlie kneeling beside her. "Any hint of vampire and we're out of there. I promise. I'm not going to risk you. I'll never risk your life again. You're safe, Lark."

Not safe. Never safe.

Especially not here.

But his hand was stroking her neck now, thumb digging into the tense muscle that aligned her spine. Lark rested against his knee, turning her face into his thigh. God, she felt sick.

"Do you want to stay behind?"