The abandoned textile factory on the outskirts of Barcelona stood like a concrete monument to industrial decay. Santino parked behind a collapsed loading dock, checking his weapons one final time.Zara's intel had been precise: twelve guards, rotating shifts, one exit. Angel was being held in the old foreman's office on the second floor.He moved through the shadows like smoke, years of violence refined into an economy of motion. The first guard dropped silently, Santino's knife finding the gap between vertebrae. The second barely had time to reach for his radio.Inside, the factory floor stretched vast and empty, moonlight filtering through broken skylights. Machinery stood like mechanical skeleton

The abandoned monastery sat on a hill outside Barcelona like a broken tooth against the sky. Santino parked behind crumbling stone walls, his gun checked and ready.Mia was already there. Her car—the same black sedan from the docks waited in the courtyard.Inside, candles flickered in the chapel as she sat in the front pew, still wearing the red dress. The silver briefcase rested beside her."You came," she said without turning around."You have my father's watch.""I have a lot of things that used to be his."

Last Updated : 2025-06-07

The red light pulsed. On. Off. On. Off as Santino reached for his gun. Mia grabbed his wrist."Don't move," she said. "Motion sensor.""What happens if""You don't want to know."They sat frozen on the couch. Naked and Exposed as the  light kept pulsing."How long?" Santino asked."It wasn't there before. Someone planted it while we were...""Your father's men?"

Last Updated : 2025-06-09

Santino stared at the tiny device Zara had pulled from behind his bathroom mirror. Smaller than a breath mint, with hair-thin wires connecting to a power source hidden in the wall."One  year?" he asked."Maybe longer. This is military-grade equipment. Government level. Someone with serious connections and unlimited funding put these here."Zara's laptop displayed a three-dimensional map of his life. Red dots pulsed everywhere. His bedroom. His office. His kitchen. His car. Even the goddamn bathroom."Every conversation recorded and transmitted," she said, pointing at the screen. "Every phone call is monitored. Every pr