Saints of Sin

Prologue

The New Year's celebration had been a grand affair, as it always was in their household. The estate was lit up with glittering lights, laughter echoing through the grand halls as friends and family gathered to welcome the dawn of a new year. Andréa was no more than five years old ("But turning six soon!" As she loved to boast to her friends), a small girl with dark, wide eyes filled with wonder. The day had been magical, full of fun and games, music and dancing, and the excitement of new beginnings.

Her parents, always the perfect hosts, had ensured the night was unforgettable. The house had been decorated in shimmering gold and silver, and the air was filled with the scent of delicious food, the sound of clinking glasses, and the joyful chatter of the guests. Andréa had spent the evening darting between rooms, playing with other children, and marveling at the beauty of the night. Her father had even let her stay up past her bedtime, a rare treat that made Andréa feel like she was part of something special.

As the clock struck midnight, the guests had gathered in the ballroom to watch the fireworks burst in brilliant colors across the night sky. Andréa had stood between her parents, her small hand clasped in her mother's, her eyes wide with awe. The future seemed bright, full of promise and happiness, as the new year was welcomed with cheers and applause.

As the night wore on, the festivities began to die down and the guests, tired but content, bid their goodbyes and made their way home. By three in the morning, the house had grown quiet, the once lively atmosphere giving way to a peaceful calm. Andréa's parents had tucked her into bed, kissed her forehead, and wished her sweet dreams.

But those dreams never came.

Andréa was jolted awake by the sound of her mother's scream, sharp and frantic, slicing through the stillness of the early morning. Fear, cold and unyielding, gripped her small heart as he scrambled out of bed, her tiny feet padding across the cold floor. She heard the heavy footsteps of men—strangers—echoing through the hallways, their voices low and threatening. her father's voice, usually so calm and commanding, was raised in a panicked shout. her mother's cries followed, filled with a terror Andréa had never known.

She had barely made it to the door of her room when her father appeared, eyes wide with fear. Without a word, her father grabbed her, pulling her into the forbidden sanctuary of his office. Andréa was too scared to ask what was happening, too scared to do anything but cling to her father's hand. The office, once a place of mystery and importance, now felt like a prison as her father pushed her toward a hidden door behind a heavy bookshelf.

The small, secret room beyond was dark and cold. Her father knelt down, gripping Andréa's shoulders tightly, his voice trembling as he said, "No matter what happens, do not come out until it's safe." The fear in her father's eyes, a fear Andréa had never seen before, paralyzed her. She nodded, her throat too tight to speak, and watched as her father closed the door, sealing her in darkness.

From inside the room, Andréa pressed her ear to the wall, trying to make sense of the chaos outside. The muffled voices of the intruders filled the space around her, growing louder, more menacing. And then, the sound of violence shattered the silence.

A sharp crack—like the sound of firecrackers, but more sinister—reverberated through the walls. Andréa flinched, her small body curling in on itself as the noise continued, each explosion louder than the last. Her mother's scream, this time filled with raw terror, cut through the air, only to be abruptly silenced.

And then, nothing.

The silence that followed was suffocating, pressing down on Andréa's small frame, making it hard to breathe. She waited, minutes stretching into an eternity, but the house remained eerily quiet. The men's voices faded, their footsteps retreating into the distance, leaving behind only a void filled with dread.