Napoli wasn’t loud tonight.
It was the kind of night cities reserved for secrets.
The kind that curled smoke into the air and carried whispers through alleyways like ghosts.
Rose stepped out of the black Range Rover, hoodie over her curls, lips tinted blood-red even though no one was supposed to see her. Cassian stayed behind the wheel, engine humming low, fingers gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. Two streets over, Killian sat in a slick black tech van, fingers dancing over keyboards and monitors, eyes like steel.
Target: Enzo Vitali’s private auction.
Only invited dealers, smugglers, and black market diplomats.
Which meant Rose fit right in.
She pulled her hoodie tighter, adjusted the hollowed-out diamond necklace on her neck—glimmering li
