Chapter 9 - The Cathedral Vaults
Saint Jude Cathedral loomed over the city like a gothic fortress of black granite and gargoyles. Lightning illuminated the towering stained-glass windows, casting multicolored, fractured shadows across the ancient stone steps.
Down in the crypts beneath the altar, the air was freezing and smelled of burning wax, old incense, and wet dirt. Twelve elders of the Commission—the ancient ruling council of the syndicates—sat along a semicircular stone bench, wrapped in heavy woolen coats, their faces obscured by the dim candlelight.
Emma stood in the center of the flagstone floor. The silk cords had been cut, but two armed Donati enforcers stood three paces behind her, hands resting on suppressed submachine guns. Julian stood opposite her, three feet away, his steel cuffs removed but his wrists raw and bleeding.
Between them stood Father Moretti—no relation to Salvatore, but an ordained priest who had served as the underworld’s official arbiter for four decades. In his trembling hands, he held a heavy, leather-bound register and a ceremonial silver dagger.
""The bloodlines must be reconciled,"" Father Moretti chanted, his voice thin and hollow in the cavernous crypt. ""By covenant of 1948, the Rossi name and the Donati blood must merge, or the peace is broken, and total war is declared.""
Helena stood to the right, watching with cold calculation. Victoria stood beside her, eyes darting nervously toward the shadows near the cathedral's western arches.
""Julian Cesare Rossi,"" the priest intoned. ""Do you accept the covenant?""
Julian didn't look at the priest. His eyes were locked onto Emma. Beneath the dirt, the bruises, and the dried blood, his expression held an intensity that made the air feel thin.
""I accept the bloodline,"" Julian said, his baritone voice echoing off the stone vaults. ""On one condition.""
The elders stirred. Helena's eyes narrowed. ""You are in no position to make conditions, Julian,"" she said sharply.
""The condition is simple,"" Julian continued, ignoring her completely. ""Emma signs the ledger as head of the family. The Rossi assets don't belong to me. They don't belong to the council. They belong to her. Solely and entirely.""
Emma’s heart slammed against her ribs. ""Julian, no... they'll kill you the moment you sign away your power.""
""They won't,"" Julian whispered, stepping half an inch closer, his gaze softening by an imperceptible fraction. ""Because as long as you hold the empire, little bird, you are the only one who can protect us both.""
Father Moretti offered the silver dagger to Julian. Without hesitation, Julian dragged the blade across the palm of his right hand, letting the dark blood pool in the crease of his skin. He held out the blade to Emma.
May you like
Emma looked at the cold steel. She looked at Helena’s triumphant, greedy face. She looked at Victoria, whose fingers were quietly slipping inside her evening coat.
Then Emma noticed something else. High above in the shadows of the cathedral triforium, the red dot of an infrared sniper scope danced across the stone altar—not aimed at Julian, but centered squarely on Helena's forehead.
