The Grunewald safe house sat like a concrete monolith against the gray German dawn, a relic of Cold War surveillance repurposed for a new kind of espionage. Inside, the atmosphere was sterile, smelling of ozone and the bitter, over-steeped espresso Elena had brewed for the Aegis team. Ballistic mesh over the windows fractured the morning light into jagged diamonds across the floorboards.
Seraphina sat at a scarred oak table, the leather-bound ledger from Box 814 laid open. Beside it, the digital drive she had salvaged from the Black Forest whirred in a ruggedized laptop. Across the room, Alessandro stood by the cold hearth, his shadow stretching long and sharp. He had not washed away the soot or the river silt; he remained a jagged silhouette of tactical gear and silent fury.
"The encryp
