"I never trusted that chapel," Rhett muttered, pushing the heavy wooden door with his shoulder as Savannah followed closely behind.
The chapel had stood for centuries , a decaying testament to the wolves who had come before, their secrets buried in plain sight beneath sacred stone and hollow hymns. Candles lined the altar, melted to nubs, their last waxen breaths clinging to old brass holders. The stained-glass windows, cracked and faded, painted fractured rainbows across the dusty pews.
Savannah's steps echoed behind him, hesitant, deliberate. "It smells like blood and pine… like the night your father vanished."
Rhett's jaw clenched. "Sterling never left things untouched. If Camille's right, the truth he's hiding is down here."
He turned sharply, walking toward the altar. With a grunt, he reached under the wooden structure, pressing against the engraved crest , the Callahan seal. Something clicked beneath his fingers.
A panel shifted.
