The air in the servant tunnels was thick with the scent of damp earth and century-old secrets. Above them, the muffled rhythmic thud of combat boots on marble echoed like a death march. Antonio Bianchi’s men were inside the house, and the "Glass Cage" was finally shattering.
"Left at the fork," Alessandro commanded, his voice a low vibration in the darkness. He held a tactical flashlight in one hand and his Beretta in the other. He didn't look back to see if Seraphina and Gia were following; he moved with the lethal certainty of a man who had memorized every escape route before he even learned to walk.
Seraphina gripped Gia’s hand, her fingers tight. Her mind was a high-speed processor, overlaying the blueprints she’d memorized over the jagged stone walls of the tunnel. "The fork leads t
