The transition from the wedding's "Noise" to the vestry's "Silence" was a physical blow.
Leo stood over Sarah's body, his wedding ring—a band of brushed tungsten—glinting under the dim light of the chandelier. He didn't breathe. He didn't blink. The "Machine" was running a thousand diagnostic tests, and every single one was returning a fatal error.
The door creaked open. Vane stepped in, followed by Marco.
The Boss didn't flinch. He looked at the girl in the chair, then at the note on the mirror: "SHHH. NOW IT'S PERFECT." His jaw tightened, the only sign of the fury boiling beneath his tailored suit.
"Vane," Leo rasped, his voice sounding like two stones grinding together. "She was just... she was just a guest. She was a bridesmaid."
"I see her, Leo," Vane said, his voice a low, lethal hum. He turned to Marco. "Get the 'Cleaners' in here. Use the service entrance. I want this room scrubbed until it looks like it was never touched. If a single drop of red remains, I'll have your head."
"What about the bride?" Marco whispered, casting a nervous glance toward the muffled sound of the band playing "Celebration."
"She doesn't find out," Leo snapped, stepping into Marco's space with a sudden, violent intensity. "She doesn't hear a word. She thinks Sarah felt sick and went home early. If she finds out her wedding day was a crime scene, I will burn this city to the ground starting with you."
Vane placed a heavy hand on Leo's shoulder. "He's right. If the girl knows, the 'Light' is gone. And if the Light is gone, Leo is no use to me. Clean it. Now."
While the guests were toasts and laughter, a different kind of business was being conducted in the shadows of the cathedral.
Vane pulled out a burner phone and dialed a direct line to the Police Commissioner—a man whose career was built on Vane's "donations."
"Commissioner," Vane said, his eyes fixed on the "Clipped" throat of the bridesmaid. "We have a problem at the Cathedral. One of the 'Clipped Wing' victims. I'm having my men preserve the scene until your private team arrives. No sirens. No press. No official reports until I say so. But you put every detective you have on this ghost. If I find him before you do, there won't be enough of him left to identify."
Leo watched the "Cleaners" work. They moved with a clinical, ghoulish efficiency, bagging the evidence and wiping the marble. They were erasing a life to save a lie.
"Leo," Vane said, turning back to his son. "This isn't a rival. This isn't business. This is a freak. A shadow. You can't fight a shadow with a Ferrari and a tuxedo."
"I'll find him," Leo whispered. "I'll find him and I'll make the silence permanent."
Ten minutes later, Leo walked back into the reception hall.
The smell of bleach was still stinging his nostrils, hidden under the heavy scent of lilies and expensive cologne. He saw Ayiesha across the room, laughing with her Khala, her crown of orange blossoms slightly tilted. She looked up and saw him, her face lighting up with that "Dynamite" radiance.
"Leo! Where have you been?" she yapped, jogging over to him and grabbing his hands. "And where's Sarah? Everyone's waiting for her speech!"
Leo felt the weight of the lie like a mountain on his chest. He squeezed her hands, his touch grounding her.
"She... she wasn't feeling well, Ayiesha," Leo said, his voice perfectly steady, the "Machine" masking the tremor in his soul. "The excitement was too much. She took a cab home. She sent her love and said she'd call you in the morning."
Ayiesha's smile faltered for a second. "Oh. Poor Sarah. I should call her—"
"No," Leo said, a bit too quickly. "Let her sleep. She's exhausted. Come on. It's our song. Let's dance."
He pulled her onto the floor. As they moved to the music, Leo scanned the crowd. He looked at the waiters. He looked at the "plus-ones" he didn't recognize. He looked at every face, searching for the "Nobody"—the man who had stood in the back room and decided that Sarah's joy was a crime.
He held Ayiesha tighter than he ever had. To the guests, it looked like a romantic embrace. To Leo, it was a shield.
He was dancing in a room full of ghosts, protecting a woman who didn't know she was already being hunted. The wedding wasn't over. The war had just moved inside the house.