The private jet banked over the Tyrrhenian Sea, the lights of Rome flickering below like a bed of dying embers. Inside the cabin, the silence was heavy, pressurized by the presence of three people who, by all laws of Sicilian blood feuds, should have been dead by each other’s hands.
Seraphina sat across from Alessandro, her gaze fixed on the reflection in the darkened window. She had traded her velvet dress for a tactical bodysuit and a leather jacket, the transition from "Asset" to "Architect" complete. Beside her, Gia slept fitfully, her head resting on a bundled coat.
"You haven't touched your drink," Alessandro said, his voice low enough not to wake the girl. He was watching Seraphina with an intensity that felt like a physical weight. The slow-burn tension between them had shifted f
