Chapter 3 BLOOD IN THE CHAMPAGNE

OBSIDIAN VEINS

Book One – The Spark & The Secret

CHAPTER THREE: Blood in the Champagne

"Every masquerade ends in revelation. The only question is-who will be unmasked?"

NIKOLAI

The gala was a trap.

But no one needed to know that.

From the outside, it was decadence in its purest form-crystal chandeliers, strings of violins echoing across gold-leafed halls, women in black velvet and men in tailored silk. The Moreau estate glowed like a Roman palace, and tonight, it served a singular purpose:

Flush out the rat.

The one who sold intel to the Ricci family. The one leaking details about our shipments. I didn't know who they were yet, but I had narrowed the suspects to twenty-six names-all invited tonight.

No guns. No blood. Not yet.

Just champagne, conversation, and my eyes watching every nervous tic in the room.

Lucien stood at my side, dressed in a black tux and a crimson tie-the Moreau color.

"They don't suspect," he said.

"They shouldn't."

"Still want her to come?"

"Delilah?"

"She's not on the list."

"She never was."

Lucien handed me a slim glass of whiskey. "What if she doesn't show?"

"She will."

"And if she does?"

I glanced at the crowd.

"Then we dance."

SIENA

It wasn't my scene.

I didn't belong in castles or silk.

But I knew how to play pretend.

Eva laced the corset so tight I thought I might snap in half. My mask was Venetian gold, the eyes dark and feline. I wore heels I could stab a man with and a slit dress that made the air feel sharp against my thighs.

"You shouldn't go," Eva said.

"I have to."

"You kissed him. He might recognize you."

"That's the point."

The Moreau estate was as legendary as the man himself. Gold gates. Armed guards in tuxedos. Valets driving away Bentleys like it was nothing.

Inside, it was worse.

The air reeked of wealth and hidden violence. Every chandelier glittered like a lie. Every man carried a gun behind his smile.

And then I saw him.

Across the ballroom.

Mid-conversation with a Russian arms dealer, laughing like a predator in silk.

Nikolai Moreau.

He wore a midnight-black suit, no tie. His hair slicked back. His lips curled in that signature smirk-the one that hid a hundred knives.

And for just one second... he saw me.

His smile vanished.

Our eyes locked.

And the world slowed down.

NIKOLAI

I didn't blink.

Couldn't.

She stood at the edge of the ballroom like something sculpted by vengeance itself. Gold mask. Red dress. Bare shoulders dusted with shimmer. And a look in her eyes that screamed: Try me.

It was her.

Not just Delilah.

Her.

The girl from the alley. The one who stitched my wound. The one who called herself nobody.

I crossed the floor in twelve steps.

Twelve beats of a drum I couldn't silence.

"Dance with me," I said.

"Not even a hello?" she teased.

"Hello would be too easy."

She took my hand. "Then make it hard."

THE DANCE

The violins played something slow and dangerous. People watched. Of course they did. The prince of Carmine City had taken an unknown woman to the floor. They whispered. Gossiped.

But I didn't hear them.

All I saw was her.

"You look different without blood on your face," I said.

She smiled. "You look different without a gun in your hand."

"Still carrying it."

"Still dangerous, then."

I twirled her, drew her close again. My hand slid along her waist, resting on the dip of her spine.

"You knew I'd come," she murmured.

"I hoped."

"Why?"

"Because I haven't stopped thinking about you."

SIENA

Every step of that dance was a betrayal.

To Eva.

To my mission.

To myself.

Because I was falling into his rhythm too easily. Into the warmth of his palm and the scent of his cologne. Into the storm behind his eyes that said: Let me ruin you.

And I wanted to let him.

Even though I knew better.

Even though I came here to destroy him.

The song ended.

I started to pull away.

But his voice stopped me.

"There's a traitor in this room."

I froze.

He wasn't talking about me. Not directly. But his eyes narrowed, scanning the floor.

Then he nodded-toward a balcony door.

"Come with me."

"I don't-"

"Do you trust me?"

"No."

"Good. Follow me anyway."

NIKOLAI

The air outside was colder. Cleaner. The city glittered in the distance like a thousand secrets waiting to be spilled.

I handed her a drink.

Then I said, "I know someone's leaking information."

"To the Riccis?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Why tell me?"

"Because I think you might know who it is."

Her expression didn't change. Not even a flicker. Impressive.

"Why would I?" she asked.

"Because I think you play a deeper game than you let on."

She turned her back to the railing. "And if I am?"

"Then I want you on my side."

She laughed.

Dark. Deep. Dangerous.

"You don't even know my name."

"I know your scent. Your voice. The way you stitch wounds like a surgeon and lie like a sinner. That's enough for me."

Her laughter faded.

"Be careful, Nikolai," she said.

"Why?"

"Because obsession makes even the strongest men blind."

Then the shot rang out.

THE GUNFIRE

Glass shattered. A scream tore the ballroom in half. The music died instantly.

Chaos.

I shoved her down behind the balustrade. Pulled my pistol. Lucien's voice crackled in my earpiece: "Sniper. East tower. One confirmed kill-Santo Ricci's cousin. No civilians down yet."

"Target?"

"Unclear. Might've been you. Might've been a message."

I looked down at her.

She was shaking.

But not afraid.

Not truly.

"Get inside," I said.

"No."

"You're not bulletproof."

"Neither are you."

SIENA

He shielded me with his body.

Not like a protector. Like a man claiming something.

I stared at the blood pooling near the dance floor. The man who'd dropped was one of Ricci's inner circle.

But this wasn't an assassination.

It was a provocation.

A warning.

"Your gala was a trap," I said.

"And someone flipped the board."

Nikolai's jaw clenched. "Lucien, lock the perimeter. No one leaves unless I say so."

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

He looked at me.

"Burn the mask off the traitor."

END OF CHAPTER THREE