*Naples – Cliffside Road, Midnight*
Claire gripped the steering wheel of the Alfa Romeo, heart pounding like a war drum. Wind screamed through the cracks of the frame, and the cliffs loomed ahead like jagged teeth.
Her scarf fluttered beside her, soaked in the blood she had drawn from her own lip—deliberately smeared across the seatbelt and headrest.
Behind her, headlights.
Salvatore's men, no doubt.
She muttered to herself, “No turning back."
The car raced toward the tightest curve.
At the last second, she flung open the door, rolled onto the gravel, and scrambled into the shadows.
The Alfa skidded, collided with the metal barrier—then exploded in a fireball that lit up the Amalfi sky.
Claire didn't look back.
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*Milan – Moretti War Room, Two Hours Later*
“Car identified as
