Jasper pointed. "Look. Fucking amateur doesn’t see him coming. How the fuck did he get that close without—"
The crack of bone echoed in the silence.
“Damn,” Diego let out a low whistle. “Fucker just walked right up and broke that sniper’s neck like he was snapping a twig.”
"Who is he?" Rafael's hand found my wrist.
"Can't see his face yet, but..." Diego squinted. "There's a second person approaching from the south. Suit. Moves like..." He exhaled slowly. "That's Rhadamanthys."
I relaxed, but only slightly.
"They're walking toward the cabin together," Diego said. "Like they're taking a fucking evening stroll after killingsomeone."
We waited in tense silence as footsteps approached. Then there were three sharp knocks at the door.
“Open the door," Rhadamanthys called through the door. "If we wanted you dead, you would be. And the Constantine operative on your ridge won't be reporting back."
Diego glanced at me, and I nodded even though my hands wouldn't stop shaking.
He opened the door.
Rhadamanthys walked in first, not a hair out of place, like he hadn't just hiked through the Catskills to witness a murder.
The man behind him filled the doorway, tall and broad-shouldered, with skin the color of the sky at midnight. His hair was going silver at the temples, and he moved like the world rearranged itself around him instead of the other way around. There wasn't a speck of dirt on his suit, no blood on his hands, nothing but calm confidence and the faint scent of expensive cologne.
"Lorenzo Vasquez." His voice was deep, rich, his West African accent making every word sound like a story waiting to unfold. "I confess, I expected someone... taller."
My mouth had gone dry. "You should see me when I'm not bleeding all over someone else's mattress. I'm very impressive. At least five-foot-seven."
His laugh was warm and rolling like thunder.
"This is Director Hades of Lagos," Rhadamanthys said, and there was affection in his voice underneath the formality.
Oh fuck.
Hades pulled out a chair and sat down slowly like we had all the time in the world. “Stay as you are. There is no need for formalities here and now.”
"Why are you here?" Rafael asked. "If you're here to executeLorenzo—"
"Then you would never have seen me coming." Hades folded his hands on the table. "I have built something over forty years, Father Oliveira. An organization of very capable people who handle such matters with efficiency and discretion. I am an old man who has learned to treasure his hours. I do not spend them on simple murders."
“We are here as allies,” Rhadamanthys supplied.
Hades nodded once. "When Santino told me Dionysus Oliveira's son was involved in this mess, I became curious. Your father and I, we had many conversations over the years. Beautiful conversations, full of promises. He spoke of honor, of protecting the innocent, of shutting down Project Icarus." His mouth curved, but it wasn't a smile. "In my country, we say a man's words are wind unless they carry the weight of action. Your father made the wind blow for decades, but when the moment came to act, he chose comfort over conviction."
Hades leaned forward. "So you see, I am here because I want to know whether the son has more substance than the father. Whether you, too, will speak beautiful words and then run when the cost becomes real."
Rafael's whole body tensed. "My father made mistakes. I'm not him."
"Perhaps." Hades tilted his head. "But words alone will not convince me, young priest. I have heard too many beautiful promises from too many beautiful liars."
Hades leaned back and reached into his jacket.
Diego had his gun in his hand so fast I barely tracked the movement, already aimed at Hades' skull.
Hades pulled out a small leather case and set it on the table while the gun stayed pointed at his head. He didn't even blink, just smiled slightly, like he found the whole thing mildly amusing.
"This contains my Director's seal," he said, calm as if discussing the weather. "One of three you'll need to challenge Minos in the labyrinth."
