"They already think we're trapped.” Rocco's eyes adjusted to the darkness. "Let's keep them thinking that." He quietly studied the crypt again. He knew that old churches always had escape routes where priests had hidden people for centuries. There had to be another way out.
His flashlight swept across the walls, and he found nothing until he felt a draft. It was barely noticeable. Cold air brushed across his cheek, and he turned toward it. The breeze came from behind Isabella Romano's vault.
Rocco smiled. "Found it."
Dante joined him. "What is it?" He pressed against the stone, and nothing happened.
Lark stepped closer. "My mother?—”
"What about your mother?" Rocco asked.
"When she brought me here when I was a little girl—” She looked around the vault. "She made me count."
"Count what?" Dante asked.
"The flowers,” Lark said. Everyone looked at the carved lilies decorating the marble. Most had six petals, but one had seven. Lark reached toward the odd flower. "She told me that the different one opens the door." She rested her finger against the center and took a deep breath before pressing it. A loud click echoed through the crypt, and stone groaned around them. The entire vault slowly slid sideways, revealing a narrow passage disappearing into darkness.
Rocco couldn't help smiling. "Your mother was one smart woman."
Lark looked at the opening. “She was." She smiled through fresh tears. "And she just wanted me to survive."
They started gathering the journal and evidence when a gunshot thundered from the sanctuary above, followed by another. Shouting erupted overhead, and he could tell that they weren’t from Keller's men. The voices were different now—shouting different commands. Rocco recognized the cadence instantly because they were military.
Avery looked toward him. "That's not us."
"No,” Rocco agreed.
Dante's expression darkened. "So who the hell is it?"
Before anyone could answer, a deep voice echoed through the hidden passage. It wasn’t above them but just ahead of them and close.
"Lark." Every weapon snapped toward the darkness.
The voice came again. "I know you're down there."
Lark's face drained of color. She seemed to know that voice.
"God, no." She whispered the words like a confession. Dante stepped in front of her, silently protecting her.
"Who is it?" Rocco asked.
Lark's breathing became uneven. "My father." Silence swallowed the crypt because Rafael Santos wasn't upstairs. He wasn't with Keller. He was standing somewhere inside the hidden passage, waiting for them—alone. And he was acting as if he'd known all along exactly where Isabella had hidden her greatest secret.
Lark
Her father's voice carried through the narrow stone passage. "Lark." It wasn't loud. He didn't need to shout because he knew she'd recognize it. Every muscle in her body locked as the crypt disappeared around her, replaced by memories she'd spent years trying to bury. She remembered the way that his footsteps echoed through the mansion and the click of locks when he’d lock her in a room. But most of all, she remembered the way everyone fell silent the moment he entered the room. She escaped him, yet hearing his voice was enough to make her feel sixteen years old again.
Dante moved in front of her without hesitation, and Rocco stepped to her other side. Neither man looked at the other, and neither spoke. They simply took their places—protecting her.
Rafael chuckled softly from somewhere beyond the darkness. "You always were predictable, Dante."
Dante's jaw tightened. "I'm not here for you."
"No." Rafael sounded almost amused. "You're here because of my daughter. Lark." His voice softened. "Come here."
Every instinct she had screamed at her not to do as her father ordered. She looked past Dante into the darkness. "No." Theword surprised even her because it came out stronger than she'd expected.
"You've always been stubborn,” her father said.
