THE WATCHER WHO HUNTS HEAVEN'S CHILDREN

When Rome paid fathers to betray the awakening

The wine came back up crimson and bitter, splattering across the limestone floor of the garrison's latrine.

Simon gripped the rough wall, his body rejecting more than just Antipas's imported vintage. His stomach heaved again—this time bringing up only acid and the taste of gold coins.

Thirty pieces.

The weight of a child's life.