Who can be trusted? Who's wearing a mask? I left my former life - and my mask - behind. Running from a past where I was born unloved. A past where I was betrayed by love. Running from an organization with limitless power and stealth. Running for my life. I never expected to find love on the run. Not in a tiny seaside town in the Mediterranean. Not without my mask. But it seems as if my sad story is being rewritten with someone else's pen. But whose pen is it? This question haunts me day and night. And I get my answer on a perfectly decadent evening. When I come home to find my bedroom perfumed with the scent of death. He's here.