The photo shows a smiling young Klara, with her arms around a radiant, maskless Baste.
Before she could speak, Baste slipped into the dark tunnel, and the door closed behind him.
The alarms grew louder, echoing through the mansion’s corridors, and darkness enveloped the secret vaults.
Clara follows the hidden trail of photographs.
The crumpled photograph lay in Baste’s palm like a compass.
His gaze drifted to the faint graffiti on the wall behind the portrait: a stylized bull, the same symbol that appeared on crates in union warehouses.
“It is the sign of the Red Raven,” she whispered, her heart pounding.
