The rain had turned the streets to oil-slicked mirrors, reflecting the neon glow of Obsidian Falls' underworld. Dante's contacts had come through—Lucian had been spotted bleeding out near the old docks, dragging himself toward a Syndicate-owned warehouse.
Alessia checked the magazine of her Glock for the third time. The cold metal grounded her. Lucian taught you this. How to load. How to aim. How to kill.
Dante emerged from the shadows of the penthouse elevator, shrugging into a Kevlar-lined trench coat. "He's at the abandoned textile mill. Two blocks from the water."
She didn't ask how he knew. Some truths were sharper when left unsaid.
Dante tossed her a comms earpiece. "Stay behind me."
Alessia caught it, arching a brow. "Or what? You'll spank me?"
His gaze darkened. "Don't tempt me."
---
The mill loomed like a rotten tooth against the storm-lit sky. Broken windows gaped like empty eye sockets.
Dante moved first, a shadow among shadows. Alessia followed, her boots silent on the rusted fire escape. Through the cracked glass, she saw him—Lucian, slumped against a crumbling brick wall, pressing a blood-soaked wad of fabric to his side.
Alive.
Dante's voice crackled in her earpiece: "East stairwell. Two guards. Syndicate colors."
Alessia slipped through the window, her knife finding the first guard's jugular before he could turn. Hot blood sprayed her wrist. The second fell to Dante's silenced pistol, a hole blooming between his eyes.
Lucian looked up as they stepped over the bodies. His laugh was a wet cough. "Knew you'd come, little dove."
Dante kicked his wounded side. Lucian snarled, curling inward.
"Who gave you the ledger's location?" Dante demanded.
Lucian spat blood. "Go to hell."
Alessia crouched beside him, her knife tip grazing his throat. "We're already there."
---
They dragged him to the cathedral—Dante's preferred place for confession. The pews were rotten, the altar stained with old violence.
Dante wired Lucian's wrists to the pipes, the metal biting into already-raw flesh. Alessia watched, her stomach a knot of ice and fire.
This man taught you to survive.
This man betrayed you.
Dante lit a cigarette, the ember glowing in the gloom. "Last chance. Who owns you now?"
Lucian grinned, teeth red. "Wouldn't you like to know."
Dante exhaled smoke, then pressed the burning tip to Lucian's bullet wound.
The scream echoed through the hollowed-out nave.
Alessia didn't flinch.
---
Lucian's breath came in ragged gasps. Dante circled him, a knife glinting in the pale dawn light filtering through shattered stained glass.
"The ledger," Dante said, dragging the blade down Lucian's chest—not deep enough to kill, just enough to bleed. "Who has it?"
Lucian's eyes found Alessia's. "You really think it's about money? About power?" He laughed, choking on blood. "It's always been about her."
Alessia stepped forward. "Her who?"
"Your mother." Lucian's voice cracked. "Isabella's alive. The ledger… it's not what you think."
Dante stilled. "Explain."
Lucian sagged against his bonds. "It's a map. To where the Syndicate buried her. To where she's been screaming for twelve years."
The world tilted.
Alessia's knife clattered to the floor.