A hand landed on my shoulder. "That won't be necessary, Piccolo."
I flinched and spun around to face Rhadamanthys.
But the Judge didn’t reach for a weapon. He simply released me and approached the guard.
The guard's eyes went wide, and he stepped aside, clearing the way with a nod.
"Come," Rhadamanthys said to me, gesturing toward the entrance. "Walk with me."
Bass vibrated through my bones as we moved through the service corridor. Staff rushed past with trays, too busy with their night to notice a dead man walking.
A tapestry hung ahead, Last Supper rendered in faded thread. My chest tightened as Rhadamanthys reached into the folds and found something hidden there. A button. The elevator doors opened beside us. Once I stepped inside, there was no going back.
"You know the rules, Piccolo." He sounded almost apologetic.
I swallowed. "I know them."
Complete the contract and die. Refuse and die anyway. At least the venue was nice. VIP murder in a converted church. Dionysus would appreciate the aesthetic.
"Good."
The elevator doors opened, and I made myself step inside. Polished steel threw back a ghost of my reflection. Maybe I already was one.
Rhadamanthys led me straight to the center booth, where Dionysus sat positioned to see the floor below.
"Your guest has arrived," Rhadamanthys said simply.
Dionysus glanced up from his whiskey and nodded. "Grazie, Your Honor."
Rhadamanthys tipped his hat to Dionysus and turned to me. "Remember, Piccolo. In our world, how you die matters as much as how you live." He paused. "In bocca al lupo."
His boot heels clicked away into silence, and I was alone with the man I was about to murder.
Two guards melted back into the shadows without Dionysus sparing them a glance. I slid into the seat across from him.
"Lorenzo," Dionysus said warmly. "You look well. Rome treated you kindly?"
The question was so normal it made everything worse. Like we were catching up over drinks instead of—
"Rome stabbed me twice and gave me a sexuality crisis over a priest, so I'm living the dream."
He laughed, and the sound made my chest hurt. When was the last time we'd sat together like this without mission briefings or lectures about operational security?
He poured green liquid from an ornate bottle into heavy glasses. Neon light from below turned it to liquid emerald. "Saúde."
"Saúde." The absinthe scorched down my throat.
He leaned back and studied me the same way he used to analyze my combat forms, looking for weaknesses, improvements, the next thing to sharpen. "The coin?"
I pulled the Judas coin from my pocket and placed it on the table between us.
He picked it up and turned it over slowly. "Judas coins are rare, you know. I doubt Azevedo just had this lying around.”
“You think someone gave it to him?”
Dionysus’ eyes met mine, and he nodded before putting the coin down. "This wasn't random. We've both been set up."
"Why make me kill you?"
