The doors shut behind me with a dull thud.
For a moment, I just stood there, blood dripping slowly from my shoulder as it soaked into my already messy cloak.
My grip on the assassin's corpse had loosened, but I still held him by the throat, his lifeless body hanging like a discarded doll. The guards who had followed me stayed outside, not daring to step in. Even they knew better than to cause a scene here.
The throne hall was just as I remembered.
A vast, open space lay before me, lined with towering black pillars that seemed to reach endlessly toward the ceiling.
The polished marble floor gleamed, reflecting the light of the massive, golden chandelier above—
At the far end of the room stood the throne itself.
Sculpted from black obsidian, edged with silver, it was a relic of the past—an ancient seat of power belonging to the head of the Romero family.
Empty.
Venus wasn't here yet.
