POV RUBY
The Tuscan sun was a golden weight against the terracottatiles of our villa, a heat so pure it felt like it couldcauterize the wounds of the past six months. We hadchosen a life of quiet anonymity, tucked away in therolling hills of Val d’Orcia, where the only sounds werethe rustle of olive groves and the distant chime of churchbells. To the world, Gianna and Alessandro Rossi werejust another wealthy couple enjoying an early retirement. To us, we were two survivors of a war that the world didn'teven know had been fought.
The Ascendancy had been decapitated. The data I hadbroadcast from the London cathedral had acted like a digital virus, dismantling Julian Vane’s empire from theinside out. Governments had fallen, CEOs haddisappeared into night-black vans, and the Syndicate hadbe
