The safe house on the outskirts of Abidjan was a forgotten relic from Dante’s early empire-building days a nondescript concrete bunker disguised as a derelict warehouse, tucked behind overgrown palms and lagoon mist. After the gala killing and the tender mapping of her hidden burn scars, Dante had brought Elena here under the guise of “securing assets together.” “No more secrets between us,” he had said that morning, his hand gentle on her back as they drove through the city. “You’ve seen my Phoenix files. It’s time you see the rest. Partners, remember?”
Elena’s heart had raced with the dual thrill of opportunity and dread. Ghost’s messages had confirmed this location held fragments of the full Voss-Moretti vault, intel ledgers, alliances, the keys to her leverage. But as they descended i
