The main door slammed open, and six more figures marched in. These weren’t Sacra Custodia though. They wore the black tactical gear of Pantheon enforcers.
Rhadamanthys’ head snapped toward them. "What—"
The Pantheon enforcers didn't hesitate. They opened fire on the Sacra Custodia operatives.
Chaos erupted.
The Sacra Custodia spun, trying to engage threats from two directions. Pantheon enforcers advanced in tight formation, weapons barking. Rhadamanthys pressed against the bar, both Colts empty, confusion written across his face.
One of the Sacra Custodia rushed my position. I caught his rifle barrel, redirecting it. The burst went high. I drove my knee into his groin and slammed his head into the wall. The mask cracked. He slid down, leaving a red smear.
"Your Honor!" one of the Pantheon enforcers shouted over the gunfire. "Get down!"
But they weren't protecting him. They were firing at everything that moved.
More gunfire erupted from behind the bar. Lorenzo had Dionysus's pistol, firing at the men advancing on his position. One dropped. Then another.
A Pantheon enforcer turned his rifle on Lorenzo. I drove my knife into the side of his neck where the armor was weak.
"This doesn't make sense!" The Judge shouted. "Why wouldPantheon—"
More Sacra Custodia poured through the elevator. More Pantheon through the main door. The room became a killing floor, three factions tearing each other apart with no clear allegiance.
Someone wanted everyone in this room dead.
"Move!" Lorenzo shouted, already running toward the windows.
A Sacra Custodia tracked him. I shot without thinking, catching him in the shoulder.
The Church wasn't killing Lorenzo before I got my answers.
Lorenzo grabbed something from under the bar and hurled it at the massive stained glass window depicting Christ's ascension.
Glass exploded outward, and wind howled through the opening.
"You're insane!" I shouted.
"Better insane than dead!" Lorenzo glanced back at me. "You coming, Father?" Then he ran straight for the opening and leaped through it, disappearing into the Rio night.
Bullets tore through the air from every direction. Operatives closed in. Enforcers advanced. Rhadamanthys was still fighting, both Colts blazing, but even he couldn't hold this many.
I ran for the window and jumped.
Wind tore at my clothes, whipping fabric around my face. My stomach lurched into my throat as the concrete below rushed up to meet me. This was how it ended. Not in glory. Not in redemption. Just gravity and stupid choices and my father's killer laughing all the way down.
Except—
Through the rushing air, I caught a glimpse of the fire escape. Lorenzo crouched on the platform below, one level down, body braced low.
The bastard had actually stayed.
My hands shot out and caught the iron railing. The impact slammed through my palms, my wrists, my shoulders. Metal bit into my skin. My body swung hard into the platform, ribs cracking againstiron bars. Air punched from my lungs, and I wheezed out a breath that felt like fire.
My grip started to slip, fingers sliding on metal slick with my own blood.
Lorenzo's hands locked around my forearms, and he hauled me up over the railing. We both crashed onto the platform in a tangle of limbs. My shoulder throbbed, probably dislocated. Blood ran from my palms where the railing had torn skin. But I was alive thanks to Lorenzo. The bastard had saved my life a second time.
Lorenzo yanked me to my feet. “Move!”
