Blood on Marble
An hour later, I followed Savelli into the old tunnel.
“There’s only one place Luca could hide,” he continued. “And he’d only bring Dante to a place no one else dares to go.”
“Where?” I asked.
He turned. “The Catacombs.”
I shivered. “No one goes there without dying.”
Savelli examined his rifle. “Then let’s rewrite history.”
Inside the Catacombs I followed the pouring roof, the air thick and tight.
We found signs—blood, a broken cuff.
And then—his voice.
“Aria…”
I ran. Faster. Around the next stone bend, I spotted him.
Dante, shackled to a column. Bruised. Bleeding. But alive.
“Aria,” he rasped. “He’s coming back. You have to leave.”
I knelt, working at the lock. “Not without you.”
He grumbled. “It’s a trap.”
Suddenly, a slow clap reverberated
