Alessia Mancini
The air was thick with the scent of sea salt and gasoline, undercut by the metallic tang of fear emanating from our new "guests." I couldn't help but marvel at how quickly the scenery had shifted from the glittering facade of Porto Cristallo to this gritty reminder of the underworld that pulsed beneath its surface.
As two of our men moved the Lombardi SUVs out of sight, Giovanni guided me back to my Alfa. The familiar leather interior welcomed me, but it felt different now - a sanctuary turned command center. I settled into the driver's seat, hyper-aware of every sensation: the cool steering wheel beneath my fingers, the faint hum of the engine, the weight of Giovanni's presence beside me.
Our convoy fell into formation with practiced ease - Alessandro's SUV taking point
