The mahogany doors of the library didn't just open; they were erased. A thermite charge, silent and searing, turned the antique wood into a shower of white-hot embers. Before the smoke could settle, the windows shattered inward, the heavy velvet curtains dancing like ghosts in the pressure wave of a synchronized breach.
"Down!" Matteo roared, tackling Giulia behind the obsidian desk just as a hail of suppressed fire shredded the leather-bound ledgers of the Iron Crown.
The library, once a sanctuary of silent debts, became a kill box. The Syndicate of the Seven Seas didn't send negotiators; they sent "The Erasers"—a tier-one tactical unit dressed in matte-black suits that absorbed the flickering light of the Roman moon.
Cesare De Luca didn't flinch. He stood behind his desk as bullets da
