Fifth, Wrath (An Alex Quinn Suspense Thriller—Book Five)

By Rylie Dark

Interpol agent Alex Quinn, 29, born to Italian-Turkish parents, is a multi-lingual genius. With an advanced degree in Criminal Psychology from a university in France and a PHD from a Germany university, Alex was recruited by Interpol at the age of 25—their youngest recruit—because of her encyclopedic knowledge of serial killers. In a desolate landscape in Turkey, a body is found murdered beside the flames of Chimaera—victim of a serial killer with a twisted theology, and whose work is just beginning—unless Alex can stop him in time.

“A brilliant book. I couldn’t put it down and I never guessed who the murderer was!”
—Reader review for Only Murder
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FIFTH, WRATH is book #5 in a new series by #1 bestselling and critically acclaimed mystery and suspense author Rylie Dark, whose books have received over 2,000 five-star reviews and ratings.

With killers preying in high-trafficked historic sites, Interpol convenes a special task force to hunt them down before panic spreads—and finds no one better to head up this new force than Alex Quinn.

Beautiful in an exotic way, with a mixture of her Mediterranean heritage, Alex, with her olive complexion and startling green eyes, bears a pencil thin scar along one hand from the palm to the tip of a finger—a scar that keeps her single-mindedly focused on avenging her parents.

Able to solve cases in record time, Alex has been all over Europe for nearly a decade. Yet one killer still eludes her.

The man who killed her parents.

The darkness of past propels her—yet it also threatens to swallow her whole…

A page-turning and harrowing crime thriller featuring a brilliant and tortured Interpol agent, the Alex Quinn series is a riveting mystery, a cat-and-mouse thriller packed with non-stop action, suspense, twists and turns, revelations, and driven by a breakneck pace that will keep you flipping pages late into the night. Fans of Rachel Caine, Teresa Driscoll and Robert Dugoni are sure to fall in love.
Future books in the series will be available soon.

“I loved this thriller, read it in one sitting. Lots of twists and turns and I didn’t guess the
culprit at all… Already pre-ordered the second!”
—Reader review for Only Murder
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
“This book takes off with a bang… An excellent read, and I'm looking forward to the next book!”
—Reader review for SEE HER RUN
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“Fantastic book! It was hard to put down. I can’t wait to see what happens next!”
—Reader review for SEE HER RUN
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“The twists and turns kept coming. Can't wait to read the next book!”
—Reader review for SEE HER RUN
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
“A must-read if you enjoy action-packed stories with good plots!”
—Reader review for SEE HER RUN
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
“I really like this author and this series starts with a bang. It will keep you turning the pages till the end of the book and wanting more.”
—Reader review for SEE HER RUN
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
“I can't say enough about this author! How about ‘out of this world’! This author is going to go far!”
—Reader review for ONLY MURDER
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
“I really enjoyed this book… The characters were alive, and the twists and turns were great. It will keep you reading till the end and leave you wanting more.”
—Reader review for NO WAY OUT
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
“This is an author that I highly recommend. Her books will have you begging for more.”
—Reader review for NO WAY OUT
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rylie Dark
• Release date: Dec 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9781094381589

Book preview

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F I F T H,   W R A T H

(An Alex Quinn Mystery—Book 5)

R y l i e   D a r k

Rylie Dark

Bestselling author Rylie Dark is author of the SADIE PRICE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books; of the CARLY SEE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books; of the MIA NORTH FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); of the MORGAN STARK FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books; of the HAILEY ROCK FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); of the TARA STRONG MYSTERY series, comprising six books; of the ALEX QUINN FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books; of the MAEVE SHARP FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER, comprising five books (and counting); of the KELLY CRUZ MYSTERY series, comprising five books (and counting); and of the JESSIE REACH MYSTERY series, comprising five books (and counting).

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Rylie loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.ryliedark.com to learn more and stay in touch.

Copyright © 2023 by Rylie Dark. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright MillaF, used under license from Shutterstock.com.

BOOKS BY RYLIE DARK

JESSIE REACH MYSTERY

HIS OTHER SIDE (Book #1)

HIS OTHER SELF (Book #2)

HIS OTHER SECRET (Book #3)

HIS OTHER WISH (Book #4)

HIS OTHER PLAN (Book #5)

KELLY CRUZ MYSTERY

WHERE YOU GO (Book #1)

WHERE YOU HIDE (Book #2)

WHERE YOU SLEEP (Book #3)

WHERE YOU RUN (Book #4)

WHERE YOU FEAR (Book #5)

MAEVE SHARP FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

WITH MALICE (Book #1)

WITH ENVY (Book #2)

WITH VENGEANCE (Book #3)

WITH RAGE (Book #4)

WITH YOU (Book #5)

ALEX QUINN SUSPENSE THRILLER

FIRST, MURDER (Book #1)

SECOND, DEATH (Book #2)

THIRD, ENVY (Book #3)

FOURTH, LUST (Book #4)

FIFTH, WRATH (Book #5)

TARA STRONG MYSTERY

GIRL WITHOUT A CHANCE (Book #1)

GIRL WITHOUT A HOME (Book #2)

GIRL WITHOUT A TRACE (Book #3)

GIRL WITHOUT A NAME (Book #4)

GIRL WITHOUT A PRAYER (Book #5)

GIRL WITHOUT A PAST (Book #6)

HAILEY ROCK FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

BEHIND YOU (Book #1)

BESIDE YOU (Book #2)

AFTER YOU (Book #3)

WATCHING YOU (Book #4)

JUDGING YOU (Book #5)

FOLLOWING YOU (Book #6)

SADIE PRICE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

ONLY MURDER (Book #1)

ONLY RAGE (Book #2)

ONLY HIS (Book #3)

ONLY ONCE (Book #4)

ONLY SPITE (Book #5)

ONLY MADNESS (Book #6)

MIA NORTH FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

SEE HER RUN (Book #1)

SEE HER HIDE (Book #2)

SEE HER SCREAM (Book #3)

SEE HER VANISH (Book #4)

SEE HER GONE (Book #5)

SEE HER DEAD (Book #6)

CARLY SEE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

NO WAY OUT (Book #1)

NO WAY BACK (Book #2)

NO WAY HOME (Book #3)

NO WAY LEFT (Book #4)

NO WAY UP (Book #5)

NO WAY TO DIE (Book #6)

MORGAN STARK FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

TOO LATE (Book #1)

TOO CLOSE (Book #2)

TOO FAR GONE (Book #3)

TOO LOST (Book #4)

TOO BROKEN (Book #5)

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

It was quiet in the old library. The snow pelting against the old glass panes of the windows laid a thick hush over everything, and even the creaking groans of the great dragon-like furnace beneath the building seemed muted and domicile.

In a cozy alcove on the second floor of the library, a lamp glowed on the wrinkled old face of Professor Harland Umber. The long-tenured professor of Western Literature cooed to himself, murmuring passages of Yeats aloud under his breath. The university library, while never truly closed, was practically vacant in the long, late hours of the dark winter night. Still, Professor Umber kept his voice low as he muttered through the old poetry. It was, after all, still the library.

"Once more the storm is howling, and half hid

Under this cradle-hood and coverlid

My child sleeps on. There is no obstacle

But Gregory's wood and one bare hill…"

Out of the corner of his eye, Professor Umber saw a flash of movement. It was little more than a glancing shadow in his peripheral vision. He looked around, glancing over the heavy tortoiseshell frames of his glasses. Seeing nothing, his eyes drifted back to Yeats. His lips moved with his quiet susurruses. 

"Whereby the haystack- and roof-levelling wind,

Bred on the Atlantic, can be stayed;

And for an hour, I walked and prayed

Because of the great gloom that is in my mind."

There it was again! The professor looked up sharply, bringing his palms down with a slap on either side of the dusty tome on the table before him. He was certain he'd seen somebody moving just off the left side of his visual sphere. He turned his head, but the lights of the other reading alcoves and balcony-style hallway that ran around the second floor of the library were all turned out. Down below, the light of the checkout desk still glowed like a warm yellow beacon, but the rest of the building was dim. The night librarian had gone on her break fifteen minutes ago.

Clearing his throat nervously, the elderly professor half-rose from his seat in the alcove, supporting himself with both hands on the wooden tabletop. The old, resin-polished surface felt soft and familiar under his palms. He took a deep breath, casting his anxious glance around the shadowy corners. The scent of the old books that filled the shelves all around him suddenly stood out sharply, although the smell had not changed in decades. The professor felt his heart pounding like a marching drum in his temples, his blood ice cold in his veins, his sparse, fine hairs all standing on end on the back of his arms and neck.

Hello? the professor called out uncertainly. In the vastness of the empty library, which had stood for so long under so heavy a hush, his voice sounded small and frail, like a hollowed-out eggshell. His eyes shifted, scanning the alcove and the hallway.

If this is one of the lads playing a prank – it isn’t funny anymore, Professor Umber said, straightening his back and attempting to put the same confidence and authority into his voice that he used to command the attention of a lecture hall. Do you hear me? I do not want to be part of your video. Nobody’s in trouble, just turn it off and come on out!

There was the sound of soft footsteps shuffling across the floor, but still the professor could see nothing. He turned around, and now he could see a shape. It was large and dark, lurking in the shadow of the bookshelves between the reading alcoves.

The shape was human.

Ah-ha, Professor Umber let out a nervous laugh as the man took a step forward, rocking back on his heels and cocking his head as he tried to recognize the newcomer. You there! Come forward, boy, and let’s have a look at you!

Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble -- But house or hald, to thole the Winter’s sleety dribble, An’ cranreuch cauld!

The voice that emerged from the shadows was not that of a university undergrad up to collegiate shenanigans. It was an old voice, older, drier, thinner, and more brittle than the pages of the historic volumes that lined the shelves around them.

Professor Umber’s trained ears perked up at the familiar lines of the classic Scottish poet. There was something in the man’s inflection that sent a chill of fear through Umber’s bones, the icy implication of violence in the unfamiliar orator’s voice.

Ah! Robert Burns! Professor Umber said, forcing a smile across his nervous face, Very good. I was just reading from Yeats myself, and…

"But Mousie, the voice interrupted coldly, and the shadow took another step towards the professor, thou art no thy-lane, In proving foresight may be vain:"

The shape that loomed toward the professor out of the shadows was large but thin. The clothes hung baggily off the silhouetted frame like luffing sails on the battered mast of a ghost ship. Professor Umber saw the dull glint of his reading light reflecting on a metal badge on the stranger’s shirt.

It must be the security guard, Professor Umber thought desperately, backing up until his legs were pressed against the table behind him. But it isn’t the usual fellow – it doesn’t sound like him, anyway. What’s going on here?

You there! the professor called out, again trying to force a nervous smile across his face. Been studying the classics on your lunch hour, have you? Most commendable, I must say…

The man stepped out into the light of the reading lamp at last. It was definitely not the regular security guard, Professor Umber realized. The face that stared hatefully into his was nearly as old and wrinkled as his own. The elderly stranger wore a security guard’s uniform, a long black overcoat with the collar turned up, his head hidden beneath a dark woolknit skullcap, but the professor was certain that he’d never seen the man among the security staff before. He leaned on a long, thin, burned-ebony wood cane with a heavy metal head. The bronze point of the cane tapped on the floor of the library as the man emerged fully from the shadows. His lips, hidden in the shadowy, were twisted in a wicked smile as he continued reciting the Scottish poem.

The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men Gang aft agley, An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain…

The man came to a stop, picking up his cane and seizing the bronze head with a forceful grip. He stood sturdily on his own two legs, not requiring the cane at all. A fresh chill of fear ran down the professor’s spine like a bucket of ice water.

You’ve got gotten sloppy, Professor Umber, the man said in the same cold, poisonous voice he used to deliver the stanzas of Burns’s poem. He took another step out of the shadows, and the light fell on his face at last. The professor saw a bed of scars and wrinkles that crisscrossed the pale skin. The eyes that peered back at him were heartless, jarring orbs of hatred – one pale blue, the other milky white and blind.

The professor trembled.

Who are you? he asked, trying to edge along the table towards the hallway as the stranger took another step toward him, closing the distance, his hand still gripping the heavy head of his cane.

I am what happens to all academics when they rest too heavily upon their laurels, the man said, his thin voice an evil wheeze in the silent library. When their minds have ceased to happen upon new ideas, they’re consumed by the annals of history. You should know this, professor. You’re well versed in the languages of the dead.

I…I… Professor Umber stammered helplessly, paralyzed by fear. He looked around, but there was nobody to rush to aide, nobody to whom he could cry out for help. I d..d..don’t know what you’re talking about. Who are you? Why are you here at this hour? What do you want from me?

History, the man said, is a worm.  His mouth hardly seemed to move as the vile words crawled out past his teeth and tongue to settle in Professor Umber’s mind like a venomous snake.

I…I’m afraid I don’t know that one. Is that more Burns? Professor Umber asked shakily, holding his hands up defensively as the man continued his slow, ominous approach.

And Now is the jaws, the man hissed.

With a sudden motion that surprised the professor, the old stranger lunged forward, pressing him back on the table. The wheezing security guard was deceptively strong. He held the professor down, barring his neck to the table with the length of his unforgiving cane. With a twisted grin, the man seized the bronze head. 

With the rustle of metal against sheathing, the oncoming stranger pulled the head free from his cane. Professor Umber saw the lamplight reflecting off a thin, cruel blade that came out of the stem of the man’s walking stick. The man held it aloft for a gut-wrenching instant. The long, needle-like point of the blade glinted in the soft light.

No, the professor whispered, his eyes fixed in a horrified trance on the sharp point of the weapon, please.

From now until eternity, the lethal stranger hissed, your name will be ‘Cinder.’

With a quiet swish, the blade swept down through the air. It only took one precise strike, and fine point of the blade would find its mark.

A tiny trickle of blood escaped around the blade of the Historian’s cane knife and dribbled pitifully down the dead Professor’s neck.

Cinder, the Historian repeated thoughtfully.

In the silent stillness of the library, the buzzing, electronic drone of a tattoo gun hummed furtively to life.

CHAPTER ONE

Tell me where you hid the body, Gaston! Lexi shouted. The frightened man across the metal table whimpered in his chains, cowering in the face of the ferocious Interpol Agent grilling him.

I’m sorry! the Frenchman moaned, attempting to hide his face in his hands – a task he found difficult with his wrists bound in the handcuffs. I never meant to hurt her, I swear! We were just so drunk, and she wanted to play with it…

The body, Lexi repeated, baring her teeth like a Doberman in the young killer’s face. Her long, dark hair was tied back in a severe bun, but a few curly strands had come loose during the long, grueling interrogation. She brushed the flyaway hairs out of her dark, cunning eyes and put her face close to her whimpering suspect. Where is she?

I buried her, Gaston said, his face contorted in a twist of guilt and misery as he cowered under the hot interrogation light. When I found out that she was dead, I panicked, so I put her in the trunk of my car and drove her out of town. Her body is buried in…

Just then, a series of sharp knocks sounded against the large, reflective pane of one-way mirrored glass behind Lexi’s