DANTE’S POV
The apartment had gone quiet in the way places only do after violence brushes past and leaves survivors behind.
Giovanni had taken the spare room near the entrance, close enough to the door to hear trouble before it arrived. Alessandro disappeared into his study to make calls that would reshape the night before sunrise.
Security systems hummed softly inside the walls.
Locks engaged.
Cameras rotating.
War preparations continued in silence.
And yet, for the first time in hours, no one was shooting at us.
I stood at the window overlooking the sleeping city, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled, the shallow cut on my forearm cleaned and wrapped. Traffic lights blinked through empty intersections. Somewhere far below, a delivery truck rattled over loose pavement.
A normal morni
