The rain swallowed everything. Gunfire, shouts, fire all of it went muted the second Alessio heard that voice.

“My brother.”

The masked man stepped closer, rain streaking down his hood. Each movement was slow, deliberate, almost mocking in its confidence. He wasn’t rushing the reveal; he wanted Alessio to choke on anticipation. And when his gloved fingers gripped the edge of the hood and tore it back, the storm seemed to pause just to witness.

There it was. A face that mirrored ...