The mountain air was a cold rasp against Giulia’s lungs as she and Alessandro moved like ghosts through the Macchia scrub. Below them, the sprawling lights of Porto Vento looked less like a home and more like a tactical map. The signal had been sent, the anchor dropped in the dark, and now the clock was no longer ticking—it was screaming.
“They’re moving,” Alessandro whispered, his eyes fixed on the thermal scanner in the palm of his hand. “Two tactical teams have detached from the main harbor. They aren't going for the base. They’re converging on the Aurora.”
Giulia’s heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. “Lucia knows. Matteo pushed her, and now she’s calling in the cleanup.”
“Or,” Alessandro countered, his voice a jagged edge of iron, “she’s realized that Matteo was never
