The air inside the cathedral was thick with incense and secrets.
Time seemed to pause as Sienna stepped past the threshold, flanked by Luciano and Ari, her boots echoing against the cracked marble floor like a countdown.
Ten men stood in a semicircle ahead, their tailored suits doing nothing to hide the menace in their eyes or the steel tucked beneath their jackets.
These weren’t soldiers.
They were vipers in velvet, men who had killed kings with whispers and coups instead of bullets.
At the center of them stood a man with pale hair and mismatched eyes—one green, one ghostly blue.
He looked too young to have the kind of power he radiated, but Sienna felt it immediately.
He was someone.
Not Il Primo.
But close.
“You came,” he said, his voice smooth as silk but sharp as broken
