THE QUEEN OF CHAOS
The dampness of the ruined church seeped through the soles of my boots, but the true cold was inside me.
I held the weapon with a steady grip, aiming directly at Dante Moretti’s chest. The blood moon filtered through the cracks in the crumbling roof, bathing his face in a scarlet hue that made him look like the corpse of a profane saint.
"Are you afraid, Sofia?" Dante asked, taking a step forward without a single muscle twitching. The yellow envelope vibrated slightly between his fingers. "You smell of the fear that Aaron D’Luca has infused into your veins. But you also smell of him. Of his damn tobacco. Of his possession."
"Don't speak of him," I hissed, my fingers tightening around the grip. "Give me the names, Dante. Give me the names of the men who drowned my
