POV: Mr. HamiltonThe study was a cathedral of silence, a place where the scent of old parchment and expensive frankincense hung heavy in the air. I sat behind my mahogany desk, the light from the stained-glass lamp casting long, distorted shadows across the silver cross pinned to my lapel. Everything in this room was designed to reflect the purity of my station. I was a High Elder of the Cathedral, a pillar of the community, a man who walked a path of righteousness.The heavy oak door opened with a respectful creak. My lead guard stepped inside, his head bowed low enough that he was staring at his own polished shoes."Sir," he murmured, "Mr. Romanov is here to see you."A slow, serene smile touched my lips. I adjusted the cuffs of my white shirt, ensuring not a single wrinkle marred the fabric. "Well, don't keep an old friend waiting. Let him in."Vadim Romanov burst into the room with the kind of loud, boisterous energy that usually irritated me, but today, I welcomed the noise. He
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