Serafina’s POV
Power didn’t announce itself with explosions.
It moved quietly.
Through ledgers.
Through numbers that didn’t balance.
Through men who thought themselves untouchable until they weren’t.
I learned that in the hours after I sent the files.
The safe house was silent except for the hum of a single lamp and the distant sound of traffic filtering through cracked windows. Matteo sat across from me at the small table, cleaning his gun with slow, methodical precision. He hadn’t asked what I was doing. Not yet. He’d learned that when I went quiet like this, questions only delayed the inevitable.
The flash drive lay open between us. Elena Russo’s work clean, surgical, and devastating.
Shell companies.
Bribes masked as charitable donations.
Shipping manifests rerouted through
