(Luca)
The city had gone quiet in the way it always did after a mistake.
Not peaceful—cautious.
That caution spread first through the phones. Calls that rang longer before being answered. Voices that chose words more carefully. People who normally spoke in certainty suddenly asked questions they already knew the answers to.
I stood at the window of my office, hands behind my back, watching the skyline adjust.
They had sent a message to Aria.
Not a threat. Not a demand.
A test.
Which meant whoever was behind it believed themselves clever enough to probe my perimeter without consequences.
That belief would not survive the week.
I turned from the window and activated the secure line.
“Vincenzo.”
“I already saw it,” he said. “The paper stock is custom. Imported. Not local.”
“Meani
