The first time Adrian Vale died, someone had buried him.
The second time, he was standing in a room full of billionaires, holding a glass of champagne, when a dead woman whispered his name.
“Adrian.”
He stopped breathing.
Nobody had called him that in seven years.
Not since the night in Prague when an explosion had torn through a bank vault, killing six security guards, three thieves, and a woman he had loved more than his own life.
Not since the world had watched his coffin disappear beneath the earth.
Now he was alive, operating under a stolen identity, and attending an invitation-only auction in Monaco.
And somewhere behind him, a dead woman had spoken.
“Don't turn around.”
The voice was unmistakable.
Elena.
His wife.
Adrian's fingers tightened around the champagne glass.
“Elena?”
“Listen carefully. The man across the room is going to offer you a job. Do not accept it.”
A cold pressure settled against his neck.
“He knows what happened in Prague.”
Adrian turned.
There was nobody behind him.
Only a floor-to-ceiling mirror reflecting chandeliers, silk gowns, and men whose watches cost more than ordinary houses.
But in the reflection, standing directly behind his shoulder, was a woman in a bloodstained white dress.
Elena.
Her dark hair hung wet against her face.
Her lips were blue.
And where her eyes should have been, there were two black, empty sockets.
Adrian stumbled backward.
His glass shattered against the marble floor.
Several guests turned.
When he looked again, the mirror reflected nothing unusual.
A waiter approached with a napkin.
“Are you all right, monsieur?”
Adrian nodded automatically.
Then someone spoke beside him.
“Mr. Vale. Or should I call you Daniel Cross?”
Adrian looked up.
The man standing before him was perhaps sixty, impeccably dressed, with silver hair and the relaxed confidence of someone who had never been told no.
Adrian recognized him immediately.
Victor Blackwood.
Billionaire.
Collector.
Owner of Blackwood Industries, an empire stretching from aerospace engineering to private military technology.
And, according to three intelligence agencies, a man responsible for more disappearances than some governments.
Blackwood smiled.
“I have something I would like you to steal.”
Adrian stared at him.
“I think you've mistaken me for someone else.”
“Have I?”
Blackwood took a small photograph from his jacket.
He handed it over.
Adrian looked down.
His blood turned cold.
The photograph showed Elena inside the Prague vault, moments before the explosion.
She was standing beside an open steel case.
Inside was a black diamond.
And reflected in the diamond's surface was a woman's face.
A face that had no eyes.
Blackwood leaned closer.
“It's called the Mourning Star.”
Adrian looked up sharply.
“I know what it's called.”
“Then you also know what it does.”
“I know people die around it.”
Blackwood's smile faded.
“People die around everything, Mr. Vale. The interesting question is whether they remain dead.”
He slipped another photograph into Adrian's hand.
This one had been taken three days earlier.
Elena was standing in front of a hospital in Vienna.
Alive.
Uninjured.
Looking directly at the camera.
Adrian's knees nearly gave way.
“That isn't possible.”
“Very little about this diamond is possible.”
Blackwood adjusted his cufflinks.
“I want you at my estate tomorrow evening. Ten o'clock.”
“Why?”
“Because I need a thief.”
“You own the diamond.”
“Indeed.”
“Then why would you need someone to steal it?”
Blackwood looked toward the mirror.
For the first time, Adrian saw genuine fear in the billionaire's expression.
“Because, Mr. Vale…”
He lowered his voice.
“Something inside my vault won't let me take it out.”
A chandelier flickered overhead.
Blackwood stepped away.
“And I suggest you hurry.”
Adrian looked down at the photograph again.
When he raised his eyes, Blackwood had disappeared into the crowd.
Then his phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
One message.
ELENA IS ALIVE. BUT SHE WON'T BE FOR LONG.
Below it was a photograph.
Elena strapped to a chair in a dark room.
Her eyes open.
Her mouth covered with black tape.
And behind her stood a woman in a white dress.
The woman from the mirror.
The message continued.
STEAL THE DIAMOND BEFORE MIDNIGHT TOMORROW. OR YOU WILL WATCH HER DIE AGAIN.
Adrian stared at the screen.
Then the phone vibrated once more.
A second message appeared.
AND ADRIAN?
DON'T TRUST THE MAN WHO HIRED YOU.