Alessia Mancini
The weight of responsibility settled over me like a heavy cloak. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles whitening as I navigated the bustling streets. The scent of sea salt mingled with the leather interior of the Alfa, a reminder of how close we were to the marina.
"We need backup," I murmured, more to myself than to Nico.
As if reading my thoughts, Nico pulled out his phone. His fingers flew over the screen, composing a message. "Letting Alessandro know," he said, his voice steady despite the tension thrumming through the car. "No shots fired, but we're being followed."
I nodded, my mind racing through our options. The familiar streets of Porto Cristallo blurred past, a kaleidoscope of sun-bleached buildings and startled faces. "I'm heading for the marina,"
