“Kneel.” The rain was coming down so hard Elena Vance almost convinced herself she had misheard her husband.

In the courtyard, Elena had finally reached the ring. Her fingers were scraped raw from the grate, but the pink diamond was caught in her fist.

Then pain exploded through her chest.

Her heart gave one huge, impossible beat. She tried to inhale, but nothing came. A violent jolt fired from the device implanted beneath her collarbone, and the courtyard tilted. She fell backward into the water.

“Elena!”

Damian reached the doorway as lightning turned the courtyard white. For one second he saw everything: his wife lying motionless in freezing rain; her blouse pulled aside enough to expose the raised scar near her collarbone and another scar crossing lower toward the center of her chest; a pink diamond trapped in her bleeding hand; and, near the drain, a damaged electrical connection spitting small blue sparks into the water.

He ran down the first step. “Don’t touch her!”

Ruth threw herself in front of him. “There’s electricity in the water!”

Damian stared at Elena. “Shut it off!” he roared.

Enzo Marino, his security chief, was already shouting into a radio. “All courtyard power off now!”

Saraphina stood under the portico. “She slipped.”

Damian looked at her. Something in his face made her step backward. “She just slipped,” Saraphina repeated.

The lights died. Enzo confirmed the power was off.

Damian reached Elena first. He lifted her from the water with hands that had never shaken while holding a weapon, signing a multimillion-dollar contract, or burying an enemy. They shook now.

“Elena. Look at her.” Her lips were blue. “Look at me.”

Her eyes opened slightly. Paramedics rushed through the gate. One knelt beside her. “Ma’am, can you tell me your name?”

“Elena.”

“What happened?”

Elena’s hand twitched, her fingers opening slightly. The pink diamond rolled into the shallow puddle beside her. She didn’t look at it. She looked past Damian, her voice a faint scratch. “Maya... hospital…”

Then her eyes rolled back.

“Get the backboard!” the paramedic shouted.

Damian stood, his suit soaked, his chest heaving. He looked at Marcus, who had finally stepped out of the dry foyer.

“Find out what happened to her sister,” Damian said. His voice wasn’t loud. It sounded like ice cracking across a deep lake.