A deathly silence hung over the ruin. The scent of blood had seeped into the stone walls. Eunuch Ibrahim Pasha's headless body lay lifeless in a corner, while Gritti trembled where he had collapsed to his knees. Murat approached with heavy, measured steps. There was no mercy in his eyes—only judgment.
"Speak," he commanded, short and sharp. "Everything."
Gritti swallowed hard, his lips quivering.
"If…" he whispered, "if I tell you everything I know… will you let me live?"
Murat's gaze lingered in Gritti's eyes for a brief moment. He took a deep breath. His voice carried neither compassion nor hope as he replied:
"Yes. If you answer what I ask… I won't kill you."
A flicker of relief passed through Gritti's eyes. His breath eased slightly. Murat stepped closer.
"Tell me. Where is Leonardo? Is he the one who gathered these representatives against the Ottomans?"
Gritti nodded. His lips barely moved.
"Yes… Leonardo… He's in the Vatican. Disguised as a cardinal… He acts like the Pope's advisor. He manipulates him. And yes, he's the one who orchestrated the unification of these representatives for the Crusade…"
Murat's brow furrowed. A short silence, heavy as steel, fell between them. Then Murat spoke again:
"In Rhodes… was it he who sent Hasan Sabbah after me?"
The question made Gritti hesitate. His eyes widened.
"Ha… Hasan Sabbah? The one from the past ?"
Murat's voice rose—commanding, thunderous, befitting an Ottoman Sultan:
"Answer me!"
Gritti flinched. He clasped his hands before him and pleaded:
"I don't know! I swear I know nothing about that! I'm hearing the name for the first time from you!"
Murat turned and looked to Kasım. Kasım bowed slightly, confirming the truth in Gritti's words.
Murat slowly nodded. Then his voice dropped again, heavier:
"My ancestor Osman Gazi's sword… where is it hidden?"
This time, Gritti answered quickly. He had anticipated this question.
"In Leonardo's mansion in Vatican," he said. "In the hidden chamber where sacred relics are kept. Alongside other artifacts collected from various nations…"
Murat cast a brief glance at Kasım. Kasım nodded subtly to confirm.
Without saying another word, Murat turned his back. He didn't even look at Gritti again.
"Balibey," he said, his voice heavy and firm.
Balibey moved like a shadow. By the time he reached Gritti, the man didn't even comprehend what was happening. There was only a glint… and then his head tumbled onto the stone floor, severed from his body.
Blood merged with the other pools of blood. The darkness of the room trembled once more.
Murat glanced down at the severed head. His voice was like a blade:
"I said I wouldn't kill you… But I made no promises about the others."
And in that moment, the face of Ottoman justice was once again carved into the stone of history.
The darkness of night had settled over Venice's back alleys like a heavy veil. The ruin was now behind them. A shadowy procession of six moved down a narrow cobblestone street. The moon watched them silently from above, and the flickering glow of lanterns cast faint shadows on their faces.
Murat walked ahead, his steps resolute. Behind him followed Balibey, Cafer, and Kasım—silent but alert. Bringing up the rear, Viki and Giovanni walked slowly, quietly bearing the weight of the long night.
Suddenly, Murat slowed his pace. Without stopping, he turned his head and spoke:
"Uncle… Without your help, tonight wouldn't have ended this way. I'm grateful to you and to Viki."
Giovanni lowered his head. "It was my duty."
But Murat continued, his tone now more serious, deeper:
"It may be dangerous for you to stay here. We made it through tonight, but if even the smallest trace leads back to you… they'll find you. I want you to go to Istanbul as soon as possible."
Giovanni paused. His eyes wandered toward the distant silhouette of Venice.
"This is my home, Murat. How can I just leave it behind?"
Murat stepped back and placed a hand on his uncle's shoulder.
"If not for yourself, then think of Viki. If anything happens to her… I'll never forgive myself."
Giovanni smiled. The creases at the corners of his eyes were not from fatigue, but from a deeper emotion.
"You carry your mother's compassion. You speak just like her."
Murat lowered his head slightly and smiled. But the smile didn't last. Because at that very moment…
Viki was walking a few steps behind. She was silent. Beside her was Balibey—his usual reserved and alert self. But Viki's mind was spinning—this night was ending. And perhaps… she would never see him again. She glanced at him discreetly, sensing something between them that had never been said aloud.
Then suddenly—
Balibey's eyes narrowed. He held his breath and listened to the air. His gaze darted to the sky, then to the ends of the street.
And then… he moved like lightning.
Without hesitation, he grabbed Viki by the arm and pulled her into his arms. She didn't even have time to understand. Her face pressed against his chest, heart pounding like war drums.
"Down!" he shouted, voice echoing through the street.
At that moment, a whistle cut through the air—sharp, thin… deadly.
An arrow.
When Viki raised her head to look, she saw it.
A moment earlier, her father Giovanni had been walking just ahead of her. And now—an arrow had struck his neck. His eyes widened in shock. Blood burst from his throat, gleaming crimson under the moonlight. Giovanni staggered like a tree on the verge of falling, took a step forward, and clutched Murat to keep from collapsing.
Murat turned around, disbelieving.
"Uncle!"
Viki's world collapsed. Her vision blurred. It was as if time itself had stopped.
Another attack was coming. It was an ambush.
And nothing… would ever be the same again.