The sun rose like a funeral march, dragging its light across the wreckage of the safe house. Smoke curled from the splintered roof. Blood soaked the wooden floorboards, congealed and black. Flies buzzed in the corners. But the dead were not the only ones who had left something behind.
Alessia crouched over the shattered table where Lorenzo was trying to reset the encrypted drive. The air smelled like ash and copper. Her hands were numb. Every part of her felt frayed, unspooled, her body still echoing with the aftershock of violence.
Dana was silent in the corner, a deep gash down her shoulder wrapped hastily in torn fabric. Her eyes were wide and haunted, fixed on a blank point in the room.
Alessia didn’t speak. Words had become useless currency. There was only breath. Motion. Survival.
