The day after Veronica’s visit settled like a heavy fog over the Rivera estate. The walls seemed quieter, colder. Veronica had left behind not just her warnings but a stack of papers, encrypted phone numbers, and names written in her precise handwriting—contacts that she claimed could lead Damien and his men closer to the network tied with Valcov, closer to the spider at the center of all this.
Amara sat at the long dining table with the folder open, her eyes trailing across the names. Some were government informants in Eastern Europe, some were smugglers who owed Veronica favors, and others were far more shadowy, men and women who had dipped their hands into every shade of crime but had lived long enough to know how to keep breathing.
When Damien finally came down the stairs, Amara saw
