But I know my brother.And he saw more tonight than I ever wanted him to.
I pull Pia toward the church entrance. She stumbles once—I tighten my grip. She breathes shakily—I shift to block her with my body as we pass Romeo. Her hand trembles—I cover it with mine.
But Romeo…
He watches us go.Like a curse.Like a witness.It was as if he had just seen something he wasn't supposed to.
His stare crawls up my spine, heavy as sin.
“San,” he calls out.
I stop.Just for a second.
His voice isn’t taunting now. It’s quiet. Controlled.Dangerous.
“You really want to do this?”
I don’t answer.Because I can’t—not without giving everything away.
I shove Pia through the rectory door and slam it behind us hard enough to rattle the hinges.
Inside the dim corridor, she looks up at me—wide-eyed, breath trembling.
But all I can feel is Romeo’s stare, still clinging to my skin like blood.
This isn’t over.Not with him.Not with her.Not with anything buried beneath this church.
Not even close.
Dragged Underground
I shove Pia through the rectory door harder than I intend. The wood slams behind us, the sound ricocheting down the corridor like a warning shot. She stumbles, catches herself, and when she looks back at me, her eyes are wide—hurt flickering around the edges like a bruise forming in real time.
“Go upstairs,” I order.
My voice is low. Lethal. The tone I reserve for enemies, not… her.
She hesitates. Just a beat—barely long enough for guilt to snake its claws under my ribs. Then she nods and slips into the stairwell, her shadow swallowed by the dim light.
The moment she’s gone, my chest hollows—rage rushing in to fill the space she leaves behind.
I turn toward the hallway Romeo vanished into. He moves like smoke, but I know exactly where he’s going. Exactly where he hides when he wants answers only ghosts can hear.
The crypt.
Where Giovanni still breathes through stone.Where the dead whisper louder than the living.
I take off down the corridor, boots hammering against old tile. Every step feeds the fury burning beneath my skin. I can still feel Romeo’s stare from the alley—accusing, knowing, smug ashell. I can still hear the click of that gun. I can still taste Pia’s fear in the air.
And behind all —
The memory of her legs around my waist. The heat between us.
I rip the thought out of my mind and take the staircase down.
The crypt stretches beneath the rectory like a second spine—cold, buried, unforgiving. The air grows colder with each step. Candlelight flickers below, throwing warped shadows across damp stone.
I don’t knock.
