The world split in two. There was the mission — the hard, actionable intelligence of the Genoa warehouse, a tangible threat that demanded immediate, violent resolution. And there was the past — a fragile, buried secret in the sun-baked soil of Cortona, a ghost that whispered of a truth decades in the making.
They stood at the crossroads in the safe house’s quiet living room, the chasm between their two necessary paths yawning wide.
“We cannot delay,” Alessandro said, his voice a low thrum of impatience. He was already mentally in Genoa, his body coiled for a fight. “If Gabe is preparing to burn everything, every second we waste is a second he gets closer to striking. That warehouse is our priority.”
“This journal is the reason!” Isabella countered, her voice strained with a desperate ur
