The city didn’t sleep.
It watched.
Lights stretched endlessly beneath the helicopter, sharp and cold, like every window hid a secret waiting to be traded.
Giulia stepped out first when they landed.
No hesitation.
No pause.
The rooftop air felt different from the island—heavier, louder, alive with consequence.
Matteo followed closely behind, his presence immediate, steady.
Alessandro came last.
Uninvited.
Unbothered.
Like this was his city too.
Because it was.
“Cars are ready,” Rinaldi said.
Matteo didn’t look at him. “Good.”
His hand brushed Giulia’s lower back—brief, guiding, not asking.
She didn’t move away.
But she didn’t lean into it either.
That didn’t go unnoticed.
Not by either brother.
The convoy moved fast.
Black cars. Tinted windows. Silent coordination.
Giu
