The iron door groaned shut behind Massimo as he descended into the dungeon beneath the Sanchiano estate. The air was wet with mildew and old blood, torchlight flickering off the stone walls like ghost-fire. In the last cell on the left sat Drake de Marco.His face was still marred from the Berlin fire, skin stitched, eye half-blind, a permanent sneer carved across his ruined mouth. But his eyes… they still glinted with the same venom.Talana stood in front of the cell, her arms folded, eyes sharp. “Any final truths you want to gift us before your empire is reduced to a headline?” she asked.De Marco laughed, the sound ragged. “You still think this is about empires. You think Donatello built this from ambition?”“Enlighten me.”He leaned forward, shackles clinking. “He was chosen. Sanctified. He didn’t build it. He inherited it. Just like you.”Talana didn’t flinch. “The only thing I’ve inherited is a war and I’m ending it.”Massimo’s gaze never left De Marco. “He dies after Donatello.
Last Updated : 2025-07-16 Read more