Alessandro’s POV)
The first light of dawn was a sterile, grey wash against the windows of my study. Sleep had been a luxury I could not afford. The room, once a sanctuary of quiet contemplation and, more recently, a space of fragile intimacy with Isabella, had transformed overnight. It was now the heart of my war machine. Digital blueprints of the Chicago port authority glowed on a large touchscreen monitor, a spiderweb of access points, sightlines, and potential choke points. The scent of old books and Isabella’s oil paints was now mingled with the sharp, metallic smell of ozone from the overworked electronics and the bitter aroma of strong coffee.
Lucian stood to my right, his face grim but his eyes clear and focused. Marco, my head of security, stood to my left, his usual confident po
