The rain poured heavily over the cemetery, soaking Sergei’s black coat as he stared down at the fresh grave. Thunder rolled above, but he remained still, lost in thought, a cigar burning slowly between his fingers. Around him, his men kept guard, eyes sharp under the grey sky. “He was loyal,” Sergei muttered, more to himself than anyone. “And someone made him a corpse.”

A few steps behind, Lily held an umbrella over her head, her medical bag clutched tightly in one hand. She pretended to mourn, eyes lowered, but her mind was racing.

The dead man had been close to discovering her true identity. Now someone else had silenced him first. She scanned the faces around her, wondering who else was watching her closely. This mission was growing more dangerous by the minute.