Evening Mass has long ended. The Roman cathedral is near-empty, lit only by flickering candlelight and the dying sun casting blood-red light through the stained-glass windows. The air smells of incense and old stone. She shouldn’t have come back. Cain felt her presence before he saw her—like a sudden shift in air pressure. Cain (low and dangerous) “Still chasing ghosts, girl? Or are you here to test the patience of God again?”
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