The cathedral doors groaned open, old wood and rusted hinges protesting as if they, too, feared what lay beyond.
Dust hung in the air like smoke, catching in the moonlight that filtered through shattered stained glass.
Sienna stepped forward, each footfall echoing through the vast, hollow space.
Her breath was steady, her hands no longer trembling.
Behind her, Luciano moved like a silent shadow, flanked by Ari—sharp, focused, deadly.
The moment they entered, the conversations inside the cathedral died.
Ten figures stood around a broken stone altar.
Men and women cloaked in wealth and violence, draped in tailored suits and quiet menace.
Some wore serpent rings.
Some didn’t.
But all of them had blood on their hands.
Sienna’s gaze swept the group, her expression unreadable.
