Florence, Italy.
The catacombs beneath the old monastery weren't on any map.
But Grace found them anyway.
She was chasing a ghost—Brother Tomaso, a former priest turned information broker.
He once served the Circle… until they crucified his tongue for speaking too much.
He still spoke.
Just in whispers.
---
She moved like shadow, blade tucked against her thigh, gun silent on her hip.
The deeper she went, the colder it became—until the warmth of hell was a memory.
She found Tomaso behind a veil of candlelight.
Bald. Eyes blind.
But he smiled the moment she stepped in.
> "You wear your father's rage like perfume," he croaked.
"Pietro would have burned the world for you."
> "I plan to," she answered.
---
Tomaso handed her a scrap of paper—sealed in wax, stamped with a red circle.
> "They've resurrected Project Thorne," he said.
"A program your mother died trying to shut down. It's not about money anymore, Grace. It's about rebirth."
> "What is it?" she asked.
> "A weapon. A child. A bloodline. I don't know. But it ends in Vatican walls."
Before she could press further, a bullet tore through Tomaso's skull.
Sniper.
She dropped behind a stone pillar.
Gun drawn.
> They followed me here.
---
Outside, the monastery exploded into fire.
Grace leapt through stained glass, landing in the graveyard below.
Luciano's voice came through her comm.
> "What the hell happened?"
> "Tomaso's dead. They knew I was coming. They're hiding something, Luc. Something big."
> "I know," he said grimly.
"Because they just tried to blow up me, too."
---
And from the shadows, watching it all, stood a woman with a silver braid and a tattoo behind her ear.
The Circle's newest assassin.
Trained in silence.
Raised without a name.
Her orders?
> "Bring the Saint in alive…
or not at all."