Celeste sat in front of her laptop,staring at the blank display. The files were gone. Every name, every piece of proof—erased by the virus. All that was left was the image of the masked woman.
Damien stood behind her, arms crossed. “They knew we’d find it.”
Celeste nodded. “They wanted us to. Just so they could destroy it.”
Her phone buzzed.
One new message.
It was a photo.
Isla. Sleeping in a small room. Safe.
Below it, a message:
“She is alive. But for how long?”
Celeste stood. “We need to move her. Now.”
Damien frowned. “We don’t even know where that picture was taken.”
“I recognize the wallpaper,” Celeste said. “It’s from a safehouse my mother used in Italy. She must’ve sent Isla there before the Viper found her.”
“Then we go to Italy,” Damien said. “I’ll prepare the jet.”
