The cathedral slept under a veil of dawn.
Stone walls rose like ancient witnesses, indifferent to the secrets buried beneath them. The bells were silent, yet Aruna swore she could hear them already, echoing somewhere deep in her bones.
A wedding venue.
A battlefield.
Dante stood at the center of the war room, cathedral blueprints spread across the table. Red markers pulsed on the digital overlay, each one a possible death.
“Repeat,” he said calmly.
The technician swallowed. “Two devices confirmed. One under the central aisle. One near the west pillar. Both pressure sensitive.”
Aruna’s breath slowed.
“Pressure,” she said. “So the moment I step—”
“Yes,” Dante cut in. “The moment you walk.”
Silence followed.
No one dared to look at her.
Aruna broke it herself.
“Good,” she said.
