The rain hadn't stopped.
It lashed the estate as if trying to wash away generations of blood and secrets. In the grand hall, Luca stood facing Donato beneath the flickering chandelier, both brothers cloaked in black, the air thick with unspoken memories and grim determination.
Outside, Donato's convoy waited, two sleek black SUVs and eight men in tailored suits armed to the teeth. Their silhouettes were carved into the morning fog, a ghostly reminder of the world they lived in.
"You don't have to go alone," Luca said, voice low and hoarse.
Donato's jaw ticked. "I do. I have the map. I know the terrain. You need to stay here. Protect what's left. Protect her."
Luca's gaze flicked toward Alessia, who stood near the staircase wrapped in a shawl too thin for the cold. Her eyes didn't leave Donato not with suspicion, but with fear. A fear that clawed at her chest. Fear of what he might find. Fear of what it might cost.
