ST. MICHAEL’S
The church looked like something from a nightmare.
Gothic. Crumbling. Stone facade blackened by decades of pollution and neglect. Windows boarded. Doors chained. The kind of place that screamed 'stay away'.
We’d come at dawn. Dante. Marco. Two security specialists. Me.
Ghost had stayed behind with Luca. Insisted on it. Said...
Said someone needed to protect our son while we while we chased ghosts. Literally.
And I’d agreed. Because what else could I do? Ghost had never given me reason to doubt. Seven years. Seven years of loyalty. Of protection.
Of being there when no one else was.
But still. That unease. That feeling in my gut recently crept in that something was....
Was wrong with ghost, i had never had my doubts about ghost until now.
“This is it,” Marco said. C
