The glassworks squatted by the river like an abandoned cathedral- iron ribs, broken panes, a furnace that hadn’t breathed fire in a decade. The courier waited in the loading bay with his hands visible and his fear louder than his footsteps.
Nora patted him down, found nothing but nerves and a prepaid phone, then nodded toward the crate at his feet. “Heavy.”
“Instruction said not to open it,” the courier blurted. “Instruction said you’d know what it meant.”
“Whose instruction?” Emilia asked.
The man swallowed. “Renzo.”
Rafael stood half a step behind Emilia, the shadows making a dark geometry across his suit. He didn’t blink, didn’t fidget; he just noticed. The river behind them slapped pilings with slow, patient hands.
“Knife,” Emilia said.
Nora passed her a blade. Emilia slid the s
