The soft rustling of papers and faint hum of fluorescent lights filled the modest office where Santiago now worked in Florence, Italy. Though it lacked the high-tech facilities he once had, it felt like a fresh start. He leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the thick case file resting in front of him. Bold red letters stamped across the top read: CONFIDENZIALE – LINEA DI SANGUE (Confidential – Bloodline).
It wasn't just any case.
This one involved a string of mysterious deaths targeting the wealthiest and most powerful families in Italy. Five bodies in two months—each death staged to look like an accident. But for Santiago, the forensics didn't lie. There was something ritualistic in the method, something deliberate. A pattern only a trained mind could spot.
A knock interrupted his thoughts.
A tall woman in a tailored suit stepped in, her voice clear and confident. "Dottor Santiago Rivera?"
He stood up politely. "Yes?"
"I'm Dott.ssa Bianca De Luca. I've been assigned as your partner for this investigation. I've heard a lot about your work."
Santiago offered a reserved smile and shook her hand. "It's good to meet you. I'll be direct—I'm married, and my wife is expecting. So I'm fully focused on this case and my family."
Bianca's lips curled into a smirk. "Of course, Dottor Rivera. Just strictly professional."
He nodded and opened the file again, diving into the reports. The crime scenes were scattered across Tuscany—mansions with old money, generations of legacy. But each victim was left with a unique marking carved faintly into their skin—symbols that hadn't yet been deciphered.
The two spent the next hours reviewing autopsy reports and planning visits to the morgues and estates.
Later that evening, as they walked out of the building, Bianca turned to him. "You know, we make a good team. Chemistry like this isn't common."
Santiago stopped, firm. "Let's keep our chemistry in the lab. I'm here to do my job and go home to my wife and daughter. Let's not confuse anything."
Bianca paused, the rejection clearly unexpected. "Of course. I didn't mean to cross a line."
Santiago's tone softened slightly, but his gaze remained steady. "Let's focus on the victims. That's what matters."
As he walked off into the dim Italian evening, Santiago's phone buzzed.
A message from Amara:
"Israel dice que le enseñes a decir 'hermano' en italiano. Creo que este bebé será travieso."
Santiago smiled faintly. His world might be surrounded by death once more—but life was growing stronger at home. And no matter how dark the case ahead was, he wouldn't lose sight of what really mattered.