The safehouse Rina chose wasn’t in a city, or a town, or even a place with a name.
It sat camouflaged between forest and fog, a concrete bunker disguised as an abandoned barn deep in the Italian countryside. GPS wouldn’t register it. Phones lost signal half a mile out. No electricity. No running water. Just a well, a generator, and thick, soundproof walls.
Stanley stared at it with skepticism.
“This is her idea of hospitality?”
Orla climbed out of the car, brushing dirt from her jeans. “This is her idea of staying alive.”
The front door creaked open before they could knock.
Rina stood in the doorway, barefoot and armed, eyes sharp as broken glass.
She didn’t say hello. She didn’t smile.
She looked at Orla, then at Stanley, and said, “You brought company.”
Stanley raised a brow. “N
