Her Savior: His Obsession

GabrielOdette crosses her arms and pouts, refusing to eat her food.“Ma chérie, Penelope worked hard to make breakfast for you,” I tell my daughter patiently. “She even made your favorite: oatmeal with cinnamon sugar.”My little girl shifts in her seat, working her jaw. Her eyes flit between Penelope, our housekeeper, and me, but she doesn’t say anything. In fact, she hasn’t said anything in almost two years.Not since the accident.We’re gathered around the kitchen table. All in all, it’s shaping up to be a lovely Friday morning. It’s peaceful out here, exactly the way I designed it. Odette turned five shortly before September, but given her condition, I didn’t feel comfortable enrolling her in maternelle — the French version of kindergarten. The specialists I’ve been speaking to assure me that exposure to other children her age might help her affliction, but I’ve been exceedingly cautious since Marianne’s death.What if Odette needs to ask a teacher for help? Her inability to prope

Gabriel“Three suspects were confirmed dead at the scene,” the late-night news anchor says robotically to the camera. Three unflattering mugshots pop up on the television screen.I recognize every single one of them.“Martin Jones, Harry Lim, and Laura Ortega are known to police,” the news anchor continues, “and were considered persons of interest to Interpol for several prolific heists spanning the last twenty-five years.”Poor bastards, I think quietly to myself as I sip red wine. If only they had the good sense to quit while they were ahead like I did, maybe they wouldn’t be six feet under.Penelope approaches from behind, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “Serves them right, I say. Honestly, what is the world coming to?”“Is Odette asleep?” I ask her, paying her comments no mind.“Out like a light, sir.”The images on the television screen flash, a new picture coming into view. The image is grainy, but it’s very obviously of a young woman. It’s not just any young woman, either.

Raquel A cold chill washes over me. Do you think someone set us up? I posed the question in the midst of the adrenaline and my confusion, but never revisited it because I was more concerned with my escape and subsequent meet-up with Dad. Now that I hear Lucius’ voice on the other end of what’s supposed to be a secure line, I know the truth. Our failed heist, the bomb going off, our lack of a getaway vehicle… all intentional. What better way to foil a perfectly executed plan than to have someone sabotage it from the inside? This whole time, I was worried about the police finding me. I feel stupid for not looking inward. It’s always those closest to you that you expect the least. “Where the hell is Chet?” I snap. “I swear to God, if you’ve hurt him—” Lucius clicks his tongue. “Would you relax, Rocky? You know I don’t have a taste for violence. There’s a reason I’m the getaway driver, not the muscle man. Chet’s just chilling out beside me.” “Let him go.” “Man, you really don’t u

RaquelThe path forward lies over your heart.It’s clearly another one of Dad’s coded messages, but I don’t have a sweet clue what he means.Montpellier is a beautiful city near the edge of the Mediterranean Sea. It’s one of those amazing places where the old and the new weave together —where the shiny and efficient tramway network that zips past old buildings left over from the Reformation. Several storefronts are heavily decorated, some of them still sporting pumpkins and fall leaves while others have already moved on to festive Christmas paraphernalia.There’s a university nearby, which means the city’s center square is bustling with activity. You’d think I’d learn to avoid big crowds, but in truth, hiding amongst a sea of people is the best way to disappear altogether. Dad’s first lesson when I joined the Red Ravens was that there’s no better way to hide than in plain sight. The trick is to blend in.Don’t walk too slow, but don’t wal

RaquelAugustus Van Straus, the man who apparently stole back the Vase of Aphrodite, isn’t exactly discrete.He’s on several most wanted lists in a good handful of countries, but the cocky son of a bitch isn’t the type of arms dealer who hides. I figured it’s because of his ego. Too proud to run away and hide like a mouse. In his mind, he probably thinks himself a giant as most megalomaniacs are wont to do.I’m camped out beneath the green awning of a bakery with my hood pulled down low over my face. The bakery is closed for the day, but the smell of peppermint and cinnamon linger in the air. Using Gabriel’s phone, I decide to do a quick Google search.Do I feel bad about stealing from him? Of course. But I figure it’s alright because he wasn’t always a civilian. It’s a very grey area I’m operating in, but sometimes exceptions have to be made. Besides, seeing the grand size of his home and the pair of luxury cars, I figure Gabriel’s more than capa