(Luca)
The call comes exactly eleven minutes after the perimeter alarm resets.
That’s not coincidence. That’s arrogance.
I’m already moving when Vincenzo steps into stride beside me, tablet in hand, face carved from stone. “South fence. They didn’t breach. Just close enough to be seen.”
“They wanted a reaction,” I say.
“And they got one,” he replies. “Every unit scrambled.”
Good.
Fear teaches faster than threats.
I take the stairs two at a time, boots hitting stone, mind mapping routes, exits, blind spots. The estate is quiet on the surface, but underneath it hums—men shifting positions, weapons checked, radios murmuring in clipped codes. This is how order breathes.
“Any digital trace on the call?” I ask.
Vincenzo nods. “Masked relay. Sloppy, though. Whoever it was wanted her to
