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The cold morning air slithered through the high windows of the DeLuca compound like a warning. It was just past six, the sky outside a bleached canvas of grey, and yet the estate thrummed with an unnatural energy — the kind that precedes a storm. Inside the main hall, guards moved with unspoken urgency, boots echoing across marble floors, radios hissing in clipped Italian. Tension clung to the walls like smoke. Elena stood by the window of the east wing, her arms wrapped around herself, watching the iron gates beyond the frost-glazed glass. The compound had always felt like a fortress — a place built to keep danger out. But this morning, it felt like a trap. She hadn't slept. Neither had Alessandro. She could feel it in the way he moved beside her, too precise, too quiet, the muscles i
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