Diego moved to the side of the bed, his hand hovering inches above Vittorio's torso. He closed his eyes, focusing his energy, feeling for the source of the deterioration. His fingers traced invisible lines in the air, following meridian pathways, searching for blockages, damage, the telltale signs of organ failure.But what he found made his eyes snap open in shock."What the hell?" Diego's hand froze, his expression shifting from concentration to confusion. "This isn't right."Vittorio watched him weakly. "What is it? What did you find?"Diego's frown deepened as he moved his hand lower, then higher, confirming what his senses were telling him. "This isn't a terminal illness. It's not your body failing from age.""Then what?""Poison." The word hung heavy in the air. "There's a substance in your bloodstream—toxic, foreign. It's been there for years. Possibly decades."Vittorio's breath caught. "Poison? That's impossible. I would have felt—""Not if it was introduced slowly. Small amo

"Your left lung is worse than your right. You get chest pains sometimes, especially in the morning. You've been coughing up blood lately, but you haven't told anyone because you're afraid of what the doctors will say."Marco stumbled backward, his face ashen. "How the hell do you know that?""I know a lot of things." Diego adjusted his jacket, his movements deliberate. "I know when someone is sick. I know when someone is lying. And I know when someone has secrets they're desperate to keep hidden."His gaze swept between Lucia and Marco, the unspoken accusation hanging heavy in the air."Tomorrow morning. Nine o'clock. Don't be late."Diego walked past them, his stride steady despite the exhaustion still weighing on his limbs. Neither Lucia nor Marco moved to stop him this time. They stood frozen in the hallway, processing what had just been revealed.As Diego's footsteps faded down the corridor, Marco finally found his voice."How did he—how could he possibly—""Shut up," Lucia hissed

Tall, impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than Alejandro's car, with silver streaking his black hair and eyes that held no warmth whatsoever.His reputation preceded him—the undisputed leader of the city's criminal underworld, a man who controlled everything from gambling dens to drug trafficking to loan sharking operations that spanned multiple countries.Alejandro's blood turned to ice."No," he whispered. "No, no, no—""Yes," Vasquez said, his voice smooth and cultured. "Hello, Mr. Morales. I don't usually handle collections personally, but when I heard the infamous heir to the Morales family was on my debt list, I simply had to meet you in person.""Please—Mr. de la Fonté—I can explain—""Can you?" Vasquez walked closer, his expensive shoes clicking against the concrete floor."Please, do explain. I'm fascinated to hear how a man from such a 'prominent' family ends up owing my organization three hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars.""I—I had some ba

"Exactly." Gael moved to a locked cabinet, pulling out a key. "While you use what you learned to heal people, others use it to harm. To kill. The substance you encountered? It's an example of that. Ancient mysticism mixed with malicious intent."He opened the cabinet, revealing various bottles, pouches, and tools that Diego recognized from their training days."This poison—it's designed to resist conventional treatment," Gael continued, pulling out several items. "It feeds on life energy, grows stronger as the victim grows weaker. And it fights back against anyone trying to remove it, attempting to spread to the healer.""That matches what I experienced.""Lucky for you, I know how to counter it." Gael began mixing ingredients—some modern pharmaceutical compounds, others traditional herbs and minerals. "This combination is an amalgamation of modern and ancient methods. Strong enough to neutralize the poison without causing additional damage."Diego watched as Gael worked with practice

The man's body began to convulse violently, foam bubbling from his lips. His eyes rolled back, then fixed wide open, staring at nothing. Within seconds, the convulsions stopped, and he lay perfectly still.Dead.Diego released him, standing slowly. A suicide capsule hidden in a false tooth—old-school tradecraft, the kind used by intelligence operatives and high-level mercenaries.Whoever had sent this man didn't want him talking under any circumstances.Diego searched the body quickly, finding nothing—no ID, no phone, no wallet. Even the tags had been cut from his clothes. A ghost sent to kill a ghost.He stood, looking down at the corpse with a mixture of frustration and concern. Someone wanted him dead badly enough to hire a professional. The question was who, and why now?Lucia seemed the obvious suspect, but would she really move this fast? Or was there someone else—someone he hadn't even considered yet?Diego pulled out his phone and dialed a number."Gael. I need a cleanup crew