3:04 a.m. — Palermo
The church was no longer sacred.
Once a refuge for prayers, now a hideout for ghosts and fugitives. Raina clutched Matteo's hand as they entered through the side chapel doors. Cold holy water dripped from a cracked font mixing with the red splatter on the marble floor.
She stopped.
"What is this place?"
Matteo's expression darkened. "Where my innocence died."
He walked ahead of her, past broken pews and rusted chandeliers. Candlelight flickered across old bloodstains. A cracked mural of Archangel Michael loomed over the altar. His sword, ironically, pointed downward.
Raina turned slowly. "Why bring me here?"
"Because this is where they baptized me in blood," he muttered. "And where you'll understand exactly what kind of war you've stepped into."
She followed him reluctantly to a wooden trapdoor near the pulpit. He pried it open with a grunt, revealing narrow stone steps descending into the earth.
"This was my father's confession room. But nobody came here to pray."
The underground smelled of mildew, ash, and old secrets. Torches lit the passage faintly, casting shadows like grasping hands.
They reached a chamber littered with locked crates, thick files, old tapes. Rusted weapons lined one wall. A half-burned photo of a girl barely ten was pinned with a bullet to the concrete.
Raina froze.
"That's me."
Matteo looked away.
"Your father brought you to Palermo under cartel protection once, before he fled with files he shouldn't have had. Your bloodline has always been part of this world even if he tried to hide you."
She staggered back. "You were watching me back then?"
He didn't deny it.
"I was supposed to kill your father. Instead, I gave him two hours to disappear. For that, the Consiglio Nero branded me a traitor and hunted me across three continents."
Raina swallowed thickly. "And now they want me to pay the price."
He nodded.
"They'll use you to draw me out. To break me."
She turned to the crates. "What are in these?"
"Proof of everything," he said. "Trafficking routes. Off the book executions. The Queenpin's real name."
Raina's breath hitched. "The Queenpin?"
Matteo's jaw tightened. "The real head of the Black Syndicate. Hidden for years. The only one the Consiglio fears."
"Who is she?"
He didn't answer.
Just opened a locked file and slid over a photo.
Raina stared at it and her face drained of color.
No. It can't be
She was looking at someone she knew. Someone who had raised a toast at her graduation.
A woman who sat at her father's funeral with tears in her eyes.
Her godmother.
"She?" Raina whispered, her voice trembling.
Matteo nodded. "And she's the one sending mercenaries after you. She's already hired one of the best."
Raina's voice cracked. "Who?"
A gun cocked behind her skull.
A smooth voice purred in Italian:
"Il sangue chiama il sangue, bella. You should've stayed hidden."
Raina's breath caught as a gloved hand wrapped around her mouth.
Matteo moved lightning-fast. A blade flew from his belt, slicing toward the darkness, but the figure was gone before impact.
The shot echoed a moment later ricocheting off stone.
"Get behind me!" Matteo growled, his body shielding hers.
The intruder's laughter slithered through the chamber like silk.
"I always hit what I'm paid to find, lupo. You can't protect her forever."
And then he was gone. Vanished into the church catacombs like a phantom.
Raina trembled in Matteo's arms.
"Who was that?"
Matteo looked haunted.
"His name is Santos Moreno. My half-brother. He kills for the Queen. And he never misses twice."