She remembered the first time she had encountered the man; he had left her a rose on a pillow, and a night flower scented envelope with two simple initials on it.

Her heart beat faster every time she smelt the fragrance of the simple plant upon the parchment, and the rose had been preserved until every velvety petal fell from its wilted head.

It was almost too good to be true. He seemed not only to be a thief of jewelry, but a thief of hearts, too.

Her mother had warned her to keep away. But did she listen? Oh, no. That’s why she had been left with a shattered heart, and the bitter sting of betrayal within her person.

Nerezza was going to beat the “Black Wind” at his own game. She’d best him in his field of expertise, and pay him back with his own coin.

“Time to get a taste of your own medicine, burglar,” she murmured, and stretched her gloved hand.

She strapped a black mask across her pale features, and disappeared through the window, silent as a shadow.