The night after Palermo burned, the Moretti estate was restless. Smoke still clung to Damian's coat, the scent of gunpowder following him through the halls. He hadn't slept. None of them had.
Matteo spread the charred folder across the desk, the edges still blackened from the explosion. "There are three locations," he said. "One in Naples, one in Marseille, and one here—Sicily. The one marked with your family crest."
Luca leaned over the map. "If Salvatore's hiding anywhere, it's that one."
Damian's gaze was fixed on the crest. The ink had bled from the heat, but the symbol was unmistakable—his father's seal, the same one carved into the ring he wore. "That's not a hideout," he said quietly. "It's a vault."
Matteo frowned. "A vault?"
"My father built it before I was born," Damian said. "He called it La Tomba. It was supposed to be a sanctuary if everything fell apart. Only a few people knew it existed."
"Salvatore was one of them," Luca said.
Damian nodded. "Which means he's using it now."
The room fell silent. The air was heavy, the tension thick enough to taste.
Luca broke the silence. "If we go there, we go to finish it."
Damian looked up, his eyes cold. "That's the plan."
By dawn, they were on the road. The convoy moved through the Sicilian countryside, headlights cutting through the fog. The hills rolled endlessly, olive trees bending in the wind.
Matteo drove the lead car, Damian beside him, silent. The others followed close behind, engines humming low.
When they reached the cliffs overlooking the sea, Matteo slowed. "There," he said, pointing to a narrow path winding down toward a stone structure half-buried in the rock.
La Tomba.
It looked ancient—iron doors sealed with rust, the walls carved with faded Latin inscriptions.
Luca stepped out, scanning the area. "No guards."
"That's what worries me," Damian said.
He approached the doors, running his hand over the cold metal. The crest was there, faint but visible. He pressed his father's ring against it. The mechanism clicked, and the doors groaned open.
Inside, the air was thick with dust and silence. The corridor stretched deep into the rock, lit only by the flicker of torches left burning.
"Someone's here," Matteo whispered.
They moved cautiously, weapons drawn. The tunnel opened into a vast chamber lined with marble columns.
At its center, Salvatore sat behind a desk, a pistol resting beside a half-empty glass of whiskey. His face lined, but his eyes still burned with the same cruel intelligence.
"I knew you'd come," he said.
Damian stepped forward, gun raised. "You ran out of places to hide."
Salvatore smiled faintly. "I didn't hide. I waited. You've done what I couldn't—burned the rot out of this world. You think you've won, but you've only taken my place."
"I'm nothing like you," Damian said.
Salvatore leaned back. "You killed for peace. I killed for power. The difference is smaller than you think."
Damian's finger tightened on the trigger. "You destroyed my father. You turned his name into a curse."
"I made him a legend," Salvatore said. "And now I've made you one too."
Damian stepped closer. "You took everything from my father. From me."
Salvatore smiled faintly. "I gave you purpose."
"You gave me blood," Damian said. "And I'm done bleeding for you."
He fired once. The shot rang out, sharp and final. Salvatore slumped forward, the glass shattering beside him.
For a moment, the only sound was the sea outside.
Luca entered quietly, lowering his weapon. "It's done".
Damian stared at the body, his voice low. "No. Not yet."
He turned away, the sound of the sea roaring faintly through the tunnels.
By the time they returned to the estate, the sun was rising. The air was still, the sky streaked with gold. For the first time in months, there was no gunfire, no orders, no fear.
Alessia met him at the gates, her eyes searching his face. "It's finished?"
Damian nodded. "Salvatore's gone."
She exhaled, relief softening her features. "Then maybe now we can breathe."
He looked past her, toward the horizon. "Maybe."
But even as he said it, something in him knew peace was only a pause.
The Circle had fallen, but the game wasn't done.
Somewhere beyond the calm, another name still waited — La Serpe.