Chapter 13 - The Shadow in the Cathedral
Midnight arrived under a torrential downpour. The black ocean raged against the jagged rocks below the San Lorenzo cathedral.
Dominic moved through the shadows like a wraith, fully geared in black tactical armor, leading a squad of twelve elite Moretti operators. Clara refused to stay behind; she dressed in tactical gear, carrying twin suppressed sidearms, her eyes burning with a deadly maternal rage.
They breached the broken stained-glass windows of the cathedral, dropping silently onto the rotting pews below.
The interior was bathed in the eerie red glow of dozens of flickering candles. At the center of the alter stood a tall, slender figure draped in a heavy wool coat, leaning on an ivory cane.
Standing beside him was a five-year-old girl with dark curls and deep blue eyes—an exact mirror image of Lily. She was chained to the marble altar by a light silver bracelet.
“Dominic… Clara… how punctual,” a voice rasped from the darkness.
Don Marco Valenti turned slowly. His face was scarred, half his jaw replaced with silver plating from a past war, but his eyes were sharp and predatory.
“Father,” Clara hissed, stepping into the light, her guns raised directly at his forehead. “Give me my daughter.”
Marco chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. “Your daughter? Which one, Clara? The one raised in luxury by the man who destroyed our family, or the one I forged into the perfect weapon in the dark?”
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Dominic stepped beside Clara, his rifle trained on Marco’s chest. “The game is over, Marco. The cathedral is surrounded by forty of my men. You have nowhere to run.”
Marco smiled, revealing yellowed teeth. “Surrounded? Look up, Dominic.”
