The Vault had never felt colder.
Not because of the temperature—but because of what they'd just seen.
Celeste's file.
Alfreda clutched it in her hands, her knuckles white as snow. Pages stained with old ink, blood splatters dried into memory. She read the words three times and still couldn't breathe.
"She was a decoy," Alfreda whispered. "Her entire life… was engineered."
Nathaniel didn't move. He stood before another wall of evidence, his father's twisted legacy smirking back at him through digital screens. His jaw was tight, his eyes hollow.
"She wasn't the heir," Alfreda continued, voice cracking. "She was the distraction."
"And I was the weapon," Nathaniel finally said. "Every attack. Every marriage. Every alliance. My father planned it all with surgical precision."
Alfreda stared at him. "Even marrying me?"
He turned.
And for the first time in weeks, his eyes softened.
"No," he said. "That was the only move I made on my own."
⸻
Meanwhile.
The Black Cathedral—an underground fortress buried beneath the Swiss Alps—roared with murmured secrets. A thousand shadows moved through its chambers, robed in black, faces hidden.
At the altar, Celeste knelt.
Her mother stood behind her, pressing a blade to her shoulder.
"Say it," she ordered.
Celeste did not flinch.
"I vow to destroy the Widowmakers. I vow to bury the Vault. I vow to raise the Saint."
Her mother smiled. "Then rise, my daughter. Tonight, we light the old world on fire."
In the depths of the cathedral, a door opened. Medical-grade lights flickered to life. And on a steel bed… the man they all thought was dead began to stir.
Saint Zero. The first. The prototype. The father of all bloodlines.
His voice cracked the silence like thunder.
"Who… summoned me?"
⸻
Back at the Vault.
Alfreda paced. She couldn't unsee what she had just read:
PROJECT SAINT - ZERO SUBJECT: Male, unregistered. Origin unknown. Code name: "The Saint." Outcome: Failure. Resurrection attempts—classified.
She looked to Nathaniel. "We're dealing with something bigger than a mafia family."
Nathaniel didn't answer. He pulled up an encrypted feed—one of the final pieces his father had hidden.
It showed footage from twenty years ago: Celeste's mother. The Black Cathedral. And a figure lying on a table, eyes glowing faintly.
"He wasn't just trying to control the families," Nathaniel said. "He was trying to create gods."
Alfreda recoiled. "And now they're waking up."
Suddenly, alarms blared inside the Vault.
Nathaniel's phone buzzed.
ONE WORD.
BREACHED.
⸻
Elsewhere.
A thousand miles away, the Widowmaker compound exploded in a firestorm of betrayal.
Dano—Nathaniel's most trusted ally—stood in the ashes, holding a detonator.
"You shouldn't have lied to me," he said, blood on his shirt, smoke in his lungs.
Tracy gasped. "What have you done?!"
"Cleaned house," Dano growled. "You think I didn't know? About the experiments? About Celia's death?"
He pointed to a screen showing the Vault feed.
"Everything you're hiding? Celeste already knows."
Tracy lunged, gun drawn—but Dano was faster.
One shot.
One scream.
And then silence.
⸻
In the Vault's war room.
Alfreda stared at the cracked screen. Tracy's body lay still. Dano was gone.
Nathaniel slammed his fist into the wall.
"This is war," he said.
Alfreda turned. "Not yet."
She pulled a knife from her belt.
"Now… it's personal."
⸻
Inside the Cathedral.
Celeste stood before the rising Saint.
He opened his eyes fully now. Cold. Blue. Unforgiving.
"You look like her," he said.
"My mother?" Celeste asked.
"No. The one I loved. The one they buried to make room for the Widowmakers."
He sat up slowly.
"I've slept for twenty years. My enemies have grown fat. The Vault has betrayed me."
Celeste stepped closer. "Then burn them with us."
The Saint looked at her—really looked.
And smiled.
"No," he said. "Burning is mercy. I plan to make them suffer."
⸻
Later, in a black SUV speeding through Zurich.
Nathaniel watched the news feeds on loop. Explosions. Vault data leaks. The name "Saint Zero" trending on encrypted networks.
Alfreda reloaded her gun. "We kill the Cathedral, we kill the myth."
Nathaniel shook his head. "We don't kill a myth. We replace it."
Alfreda raised an eyebrow. "With what?"
He looked at her.
"Us."
⸻
At the edge of the Alps.
The Saint stood overlooking the burning skyline. Celeste at his side. Her mother behind her.
"So," he said. "This is the new world."
Celeste said nothing.
But her mother stepped forward.
"No," she said. "This is the end of the old one."
The Saint turned slowly.
And smiled darkly.
"Then let's make it bleed."