Sienna held the flash drive in her palm like it weighed more than metal and plastic—like it carried centuries of silence, blood, and prophecy.
She stared down at it for one long breath, then tucked it into her jacket.
The music box wound down behind her, the lullaby fading into a hush that felt almost reverent.
She stood in the center of the study, listening to the silence.
They don’t know what you carry.
She turned to the door.
Luciano was waiting in the hall when she emerged, his frame tense with the kind of control that masked how tightly wound he truly was.
His eyes dropped to her hands, but he didn’t press.
“You found something,” he said.
Sienna gave a slight nod. “Something my father didn’t want anyone else to see.”
Luciano stepped aside as she moved past him, falling in
