The smoke hadn't even cleared when Grace and Salomé escaped through the catacombs beneath the church—damp, narrow tunnels carved into bones and silence.
Their boots echoed like war drums.
> "Why do you help me?" Grace asked.
"You were hired to kill me."
> "Correction," Salomé said. "I was hired to delay you. Killing you would only awaken the other side of you too soon."
Grace stiffened.
> "There's another side?"
Salomé just smirked.
> "You'll meet her soon enough."
---
Meanwhile, in Paris, a man with no name carved a body open on a marble table.
The victim had no tongue.
No fingers.
Only ink—tattooed symbols that glowed under blue light.
The man studied the markings, then whispered to the shadows:
> "She's awake. We must begin the ritual again."
From the darkness, a reply hissed:
> "And the Bloodletter?"
> "Already in Rome."
---
Luciano, battered and bruised, met with an old contact—an underground biogeneticist named Dresner.
He tossed a flash drive on the table.
> "Decrypt it. Now."
Dresner plugged it in. What he found made his hands tremble.
> "This… this is impossible. Grace isn't just a host. She's a carrier."
> "Carrier of what?" Luciano barked.
Dresner looked up, pale as chalk.
> "A virus. But not one meant to kill.
It's meant to reprogram."
---
In a safehouse above Rome, Grace and Salomé patched their wounds.
> "Tell me about this 'Bloodletter'," Grace said.
Salomé leaned back, lit a cigarette.
> "He's your mother's greatest mistake. And the Circle's sharpest blade. He was created to destroy what your mother built—what you are."
> "Why do they call him the Bloodletter?"
> "Because he writes death in arteries. And he never misses a name."
Grace turned to the mirror. Her reflection stared back—calm, unfamiliar.
> "Then it's time someone wrote his name instead."
---