There are promises broken and promises kept
Angry words that were spoken, when I should have wept
There's a chapter of secrets and words to confess
If I lose everything that I possess
There's a chapter on loss and a ghost who won't die
There's a chapter on love where the ink's never dry
There are sentences served in a prison I built out of lies

-- Sting, "The Book of My Life"

Feeling slightly more awake now that the drug had worn off, Irina decided it was time to be proactive. Tugging at the handcuffs wasn't going to get her anywhere, so she gritted her teeth and dislocated her left thumb. Sharp pain raced up her arm and she blinked back tears. Then, slowly, she slid her hand free of the cuffs. The metal clinked against the headboard as she slid her right hand free; until she found a key, she was going to have to keep wearing the cuffs on one wrist. She sat up and looked critically at her left hand. Taking another deep breath, she quickly forced the thumb back into its joint, sending another jolt of pain through her nerves.

She slipped off the bed and looked around the room for a weapon. The knife she'd had strapped to her thigh had been removed, as had the long pin she'd used to keep her hair in its French twist. Fortunately she was still wearing the bracelet that concealed her garrote. She allowed herself a brief moment to fantasize about wrapping the garrote around Sloane's throat.

On the desk was a paperweight; Irina picked it up to test its weight, and gave a satisfied nod. This would come in handy.

Behind her, the door swung open, and she spun around, still holding the paperweight. It went crashing to the floor when she saw who had entered.

"Irina, it's so good to see you again."

"Lena?"

Elena smiled and stepped further inside. Just behind her, Sloane stood smiling.

"You look good," Elena said. "How is Jack?"

"How is Jack?" Irina shook her head. "How dare you? After everything you've done—"

Elena frowned, her attention on the hand Irina was cradling against her chest. "You've hurt your hand. Let me see."

Irina stepped backwards, her hip catching on the edge of the desk. Momentarily distracted, she glanced down. Elena reacted instantly; her hand closed sharply on Irina's elbow and she used her free hand to stick a syringe into Irina's shoulder.

Irina shoved her away, then reached blindly for something to use as a weapon. Her fingers brushed a vase but she never had a chance to pick it up. Elena grabbed her wrists, shaking her head as if she was addressing a small child.

"No, no," Elena said. "You and I need to talk."

Whatever Elena had injected her with was fast-acting; already Irina felt her strength fading. She shook her head, trying to break free of her sister's grasp.

"Stop fighting, Rishka. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Nadia." Irina's tongue felt too thick for her mouth, and it was difficult to form the word.

"Oh, Rishka, you're so stubborn." Elena's tone was affectionate. "You'll see Nadia soon."

Irina collapsed against her sister, and knew no more.

Looking at Mario and Franco Bianchi, Jack recalled his comment to Irina about them being in the mafia, and hid his smile. They weren't in the mafia after all, but they were Rambaldi followers; to Jack, there wasn't much difference. Carmen had explained that her family were the protectors of a sacred trust, and while Jack still found all of this quite surreal, there was a part of him that was beginning to believe it was true. Not that he was ready to jump on the bandwagon and start believing in all the prophecies, of course.

And as soon as he had his family, he never wanted to hear another word about Milo Rambaldi.

"They are meeting at the home of La Contessa," Franco said. He was shorter than his brother, with a head of thick, curly hair obviously inherited from his mother. Out of the two, he was the more outspoken one.

After the initial introductions, Mario had not said another word. He leaned against the car, his posture slightly too tense to be casual. He was only half-paying attention to the conversation; he scanned the surrounding area, on the alert for anything suspicious.

"Who's there?" Arkady asked.

"La Contessa, Koch, Aletta Belot, Sarah Kingsbury, Arvin Sloane and Lazarey."

"Lazarey." There was an expression on Arkady's face that Jack couldn't read. "I didn't realize he'd become involved in all of this."

Franco drummed his fingers on the roof of the car and an uneasy glance with his brother. "We think he's been involved for quite some time already."

Arkady sighed. "Well, let's hope I don't run into him. Let's go."

The four men climbed into the car.

The front door was ajar. Arkady and Jack exchanged glances, then slowly climbed the front steps, holding their guns ready. Franco and Mario slipped around to the back. Arkady nodded to Jack, signaling that he would go first, then he nudged the door further open.

The house was quiet.

Too quiet, and the unmistakable scent of blood filled the air.

They found the bodies of a man and two women in the living room; all three had been shot in the head, execution-style.

"Koch, Kingsbury, Belot," Arkady said. Then he stepped forward and closed the eyes of corpses.

A search upstairs revealed another victim in one of the bedrooms. Arkady sighed as he stepped further into the room. This man had not been shot; someone had gutted him

"Lazarey."

Somehow, Lazarey was clinging to life. Jack watched as Arkady knelt beside him. They exchanged a few words too low for Jack to hear, then Arkady held his gun to Lazarey's head and pulled the trigger.

"We were friends once," he said, and Jack sensed that was all the explanation he was going to get. He nodded, and stepped back into the hallway.

Franco was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. "We found La Contessa in the garden at the back. She's dead."

"Irina's not here," Jack said. "Neither is Sloane."

Arkady came out of the bedroom. His stoic mask was back in place, but there was a weariness that hadn't been there before. "Elena was here."

Jack's grip on his gun tightened. "Elena?"

Arkady nodded. "Andrian said she came for Irina."

Jack felt numb. Elena had murdered these people. Elena had stolen his children. And now Elena had his wife.