The first breach wasn’t a bang. It was a rhythmic, metallic scratching against the reinforced steel of the basement vents—a sound so minute it should have been swallowed by the hum of the server fans.
Seraphina froze. She didn’t look at the monitors. She looked at Alessandro. The "Wolf of Sicily" had already transitioned into a state of lethal stillness. His hand rested on the hilt of a combat knife, his breathing shallow and synchronized with the silence of the room. He was a predator sensing the tripwire.
"They're inside the secondary perimeter," Alessandro whispered.
He didn't move toward the door. He moved toward Dante’s room.
**CRACK.**
A flash-bang detonated in the foyer. White light seared the hallway, followed by the jagged, bone-shaking roar of a tactical entry. The ballistic
