"Malloryn will know who it belongs to." The Master finally smiled. "Make sure you watch when he finds the locket. I want you to describe the look on his face to me, in perfect, exquisite detail."
"And you, my lord?" Ghost dared to ask, the words echoing distantly in Obsidian's ears.
Control it, he told himself, staying utterly still.
The Master swung a fur-lined cape over his shoulders, the sable color highlighting the gray in his coppery hair. "I'm going to take care of the Russian problem. You have a month until I return. Initiate phase two of our plan. I'll expect to see the blood splashed all across Europe's newspapers."
"Yes, my lord," they both echoed, though only Obsidian felt the crushing heat of fury ignite in his heart as Lord Balfour vanished through the blackened tunnels of Undertown.
Gemma's death belonged to him.
And no one else.
Is that why you saved her life last month when Ghost sent one of the recruits to kill her?
He pushed to his feet. He'd had his chance then to repay the debt she owed.
It was just the shock of seeing her again that stayed my hand.
The sight of her pale, heart-shaped face as she lay unconscious and bleeding had thrust him years into the past, when she'd whispered love words in his ears and almost swayed him to her side. Gemma-or Hollis, as he'd known her-had been the one person who'd threatened the foundation upon which he'd placed his trust, and made him question exactly who he owed his loyalty to.
Just another of her pretty lies.
But he'd had time to think past the shock of seeing her. Time to reassess what she meant to him, and the damage she'd done him.
Next time... next time it wouldn't be as difficult.
But first, he had to keep her alive long enough to exact his revenge.
Skoro moya yadovitaya lyubov....
Soon.