“You remind me of him…”

Andreas’ voice slithered through the tension like a blade through silk.

Leonardo didn’t move, didn’t lower his gun. His heart was a hammer against his ribs, but his hand was steady, aimed straight at Andreas’ head.

And yet, the Pope only smiled.

“Vito. Your grandfather. You have his temper… his instincts.” A pause, measured, deliberate. Then, softer—“His arrogance.”

“You were close to him,” Leonardo said. His voice was steady, but inside, something twisted.

Andreas smiled. “Closer than you think. He would have been proud of you, Leonardo. If only he were still alive.”

Leonardo’s jaw tensed. Andreas had been a ghost from his past, a...