The morning after the attack arrived quietly — too quietly for someone like Enzo.
Amelia was still asleep in the panic room, wrapped in the gray thermal blanket, her breath slow and steady. Her body curled toward the wall, hair mussed, eyelashes fanned over cheeks that were no longer flushed with fear but with exhaustion. The kind that digs into the bones.
Enzo stood over her for a long time, arms folded, jaw clenched.
He had memorized every line on her face. And last night, he had nearly lost that face forever.
They had come too close.
The enemy didn’t get past Luca and the perimeter team, but the fact that they’d found them — that they’d touched this place — meant one thing.
The rules had changed.
The war he’d kept hidden from Amelia wasn’t hiding anymore.
And now, Enzo had a cho
