Grace stared at the photo until her fingers trembled.
The newborn wasn't her.
Too recent. Too… perfect.
Her mother was older in that image—older than she ever got to be.
> "This is real?" Grace whispered.
"She lived after the fire?"
Salomé nodded grimly.
> "Not just lived. She thrived. Under another name. Another alliance."
Luciano stepped forward, jaw clenched.
> "And the child?"
> "His name is Saint."
---
Far from Rome, deep in a carved-out bunker beneath a mountain in Corsica, a boy no older than seventeen read books by candlelight.
Medical books. Combat strategy. Human psychology.
His eyes didn't blink often.
Because they remembered blinking in another life.
A woman entered the room—tall, elegant, wearing a black veil.
> "They've found Grace," she said.
The boy—Saint—smiled coldly.
> "Then the game begins."
---
Back in Rome, Grace gathered her things.
She had no intention of sleeping.
> "I need to find him," she said.
"Before the Circle does. Before… whatever part of me they've copied activates in him too."
Salomé touched her shoulder.
> "You're not ready."
> "I was born in fire. I'll die in fire. But I won't run."
---
Luciano approached her quietly, slipping a necklace into her palm.
> "This was your mother's. She wore it when she first escaped Project Thorne."
Grace examined it—a silver locket shaped like a tear.
Inside was no photo.
Only a code:
"S.1331–RE:IGNITE."
---
Later that night, Grace stood on a balcony overlooking the Vatican skyline.
The city lights below flickered—like the world itself was holding its breath.
> "If he's my brother…" she whispered,
"What did they do to him that they couldn't do to me?"
Behind her, Salomé answered coldly:
> "They let him remember everything."
---