Page 65 of Taming Seraphine

Is she meditating?

After exhaling a long breath through her nostrils, she says, “Yes.”

“Fuck,” I growl.

“I should have known Dad had a second family,” she mutters.

“How?” I ask. “If you lived behind one of these gates, I expect your life was sheltered.”

Her shoulders rise toward her ears. “Mom and Dad didn’t allow me to use the internet, and we had limited access at school, but maybe I could have?—”

“Don’t blame yourself,” I say. “You were a child.”

She glances out of the window and blows out a long breath. “Right.”

We reach the Capello estate’s front gates, which are wide open to let in construction vehicles. At the far end of the drive, is a glimpse of the building work.

If Di Marco is hiring assassins to take out his buddy’s killer, is he also the one responsible for ordering the repairs? It’s possible that he’s readying the family home for its new owner–the Cappello daughter Roman wanted me to kill.

Around the corner is a street of smaller houses, where we’ll find the man who drove Seraphine to and from her missions. Since he knew about her, it’s possible that he also knows about Gabriel.

“I’ve already looked up Fiori’s vehicle,” I tell her. “We’re going to place a tracker on it and watch his movements. If he leaves Queen’s Gardens, we’ll know.”

“Why don’t we break into his house and torture him for information?” she asks.

“It’s broad daylight, and security in this neighborhood would have doubled since I killed an entire houseful of people. We can’t risk getting spotted.”

She falls silent for several beats. I wait for her to argue that I’m being too cautious, but she asks, “Okay, what’s the plan, then?”

“We wait for him to leave this district and follow him to a less guarded area,” I say. “Once he’s alone, we’ll pull him over and get the information we need.”

“Or we can snatch him off the street.” She raises a hand and points to a figure carrying a hose toward a car.

Before I can tell her to stick with my plan, the door is open, and she’s jumping out into the street.

Fuck.

TWENTY-FOUR

LEROI

Seraphine charges toward the man holding the hose, her newly darkened hair swinging behind her like a war banner. The man, who I can only assume is Pietro Fiori, glances in her direction for a few shocked seconds before dropping his hose and making a run for it.

I grind my teeth, shut off the engine, and reach for a lightweight mask. Disguises can only do so much to hide a person’s true appearance. If this man has been ferrying Seraphine to and from her missions, then I’m certain he knows to be wary of the tiny, harmless-looking young woman.

By the time I slip the mask over my head, Fiori is already halfway to reaching the entrance to his house.

Seraphine is quick on her feet, but at five feet nothing, her petite legs can’t keep up with the long strides of a man running from a furious assassin. I catch up to Fiori in a few fast strides and slam him into his front door.

He’s six-two, with the soft build of a man who doesn’t work out to compensate for spending all day behind the wheel of a vehicle.

“Who are you?” Fiori pushes back against my weight.

I pull out a gun and press it into his temple. “Make a sound, and you’re dead.”

He sucks in a breath through his teeth, his body trembling.

“What are you doing?” Seraphine hisses from my side. “He’s mine.”

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