She’d only been with the Ministry five weeks. Not even long enough to settle into a permanent assignment, and yet her name was already in everyone’s mouth—for one reason:

Terzo was watching her.

At first, the other Sisters warned her like it was a rite of passage. The usual talk: “Don’t look him in the eyes too long,” “He’ll flirt with anything in a habit,” “You’re not special, cara—he says that to all of us.” She’d laugh it off, polite and careful, but the more time passed, the harder it became to ignore.

Because Terzo wasn’t just flirting. He was pursuing.

Small things, at first. A hand brushing hers when she passed him documents. The way he’d call her “tesoro” in front of the others but not in a mocking tone—gentle, like it meant something. He never touched her inappropriately. Never asked her to stay behind late. Never made her feel like an object.

It was almost… respectful. Too respectful for someone like him.

That’s what made it suspicious.

She kept her distance, unsure. The Ministry’s walls were soaked with stories of Terzo and his appetites—how he burned through Sisters like incense, how none of them meant more than a night, maybe two. And now he wanted her? No thanks.

But Terzo was patient. Which, again, was suspicious.