2025-05-26 22:38:31
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Chapter 24: Digital Shadows
The Geneva office building gleamed like a glass monument to money. Thirty floors of banks, law firms, and shell companies. All perfectly legal but inwardly completely corrupt.Santino rode the elevator to the twenty-third floor. The doors opened to reveal a reception area that looked like a spaceship. All white surfaces and blue lighting. A blonde woman behind a curved desk smiled at him like he was her favorite customer."Mr. Leandro? She's waiting for you in Conference Room B."Santino followed her down a hallway lined with abstract art. Each painting probably cost more than a house. But they all looked like someone had sneezed on a canvas.Conference Room B was smaller than he'd expected. A glass table. Four chairs. Wall-mounted screens showing financial data from around the world.And sitting at the table, typing on three different laptops at once, was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.Zara Mbeki looked up as he entered. Dark skin with a Natural hair in a short afro. Eyes t
Chapter 23: Family Business
El Amore's estate sat like a fortress in the French countryside as Stone walls that had watched centuries pass. Iron gates that had kept out armies. And now Santino walked through them like he owned the place.The old fake man waited in his study as Leather-bound books lined the walls. A fire crackled in the marble fireplace. Oil paintings of dead men stared down from gilded frames."Santino." El Amore rose from behind his massive desk. At sixty-eight, he moved like a man half his age with Silver hair slicked back. Eyes like winter ice. "Sit."Santino took the chair across from him as the leather was worn smooth by decades of nervous hands."You handled the warehouse well," El Amore said, pouring amber liquid into two crystal glasses. "Clean and Efficient. No unnecessary bloodshed.""Thank you.""Don't thank me yet." El Amore handed him a glass. "We need to talk about your future."The whiskey burned going down. Thirty-year-old scotch. Probably cost more than most people made in a mo
Chapter 22: Room 1247
The Ritz Carlton gleamed like a jewel against the Paris skyline as Crystal chandeliers cast warm light across marble floors. Men in thousand-euro suits sipped champagne beside women who cost twice as much.Santino walked through the lobby like he belonged there. With his Custom suit, Italian leather shoes. But underneath, his shoulder a holster pressed against his ribs.The elevator climbed smoothly to the twelfth floor as Classical music played softly through hidden speakers. The kind of music that made murder sound elegant.Room 1247 was at the end of a long hallway with thick carpet swallowing the sound of his footsteps.He knocked twice. "It's open," a voice called from inside it was Mia's voice as Santino drew his gun before turning the handle.The suite was larger than most apartments. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the Seine. A bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket beside two crystal glasses.Mia stood with her back to him, her silhouette against the city lights. S
Chapter 21: Blood on Steel
The warehouse stretched into shadows like a metal cathedral as rust flaked from the ceiling beams. The air tasted of motor oil.Santino pressed his back against a shipping container, feeling the cold steel through his jacket. His Beretta was warm in his hand. Three bullets left. Maybe four. He'd stopped counting after the second body dropped."Movement on the south side," Zara's voice crackled through his earpiece. Static made her sound like she was calling from another world. "Two heat signatures. Maybe three.""Copy." Santino's voice was barely a whisper.Footsteps echoed somewhere in the maze of crates and machinery. Slow and Deliberate. These weren't amateurs.Salvatore appeared around a corner, crouched low as blood streaked from his temple. His usually perfect hair hung in his face."They killed Marcos," he said, breathing hard. "Slit his throat like he was nothing."Santino nodded he knew Marcos for the longest time. He was Good friend, Quiet always Sent money back to his mothe
Chapter 20: Business
Santino drove back from the prison with one hand on the wheel and one thought pounding in his skull:El Amore did this. All of it. The lies, the loss, the silence, the streets.He had lived like an orphan, but it wasn’t fate.It was designed. And the man responsible still called him “son.”The sun was dipping behind the clouds by the time he pulled into the warehouse lot. Everything felt dimmer now colors, thoughts, emotions.He wasn’t angry. He was surgical. His phone buzzed.Bumos. “Boss, we need to talk,” the voice came through, fast and nervous.“Go ahead.”“It’s the Marseille shipment. There’s been a delay.”“What kind of delay?”“Truck broke down. Outside Lyon.” Santino’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.“Since when?”“This morning.”“And you’re just calling now?”“I tried to fix it quietly.” Santino pulled the car to the side of the road. He no longer trusted quiet fixes.“Where’s the truck now?”“Still outside Lyon. Waiting for a part. Transmission failure.”“Send me the
Chapter 19: Alive
The prison looked more like a bunker than a building. Gray walls. Electric fences. Sharp wires curling like claws toward the sky.Santino parked the car and turned off the engine. Beside him, Mia sat still, hands folded in her lap. “You don’t have to do this,” she said.“I already did.”“You’re quiet.” She said as he looked up at the gates.“So are you.”They walked in together. No words. Just the sound of their shoes on the pavement and the wind scraping through metal.Inside, the air smelled like bleach. A guard scanned their IDs without a smile. “Maria Leandro?” he asked.“Her son,” Mia answered. The man blinked. “She hasn’t had a visitor in twenty years.”Santino said nothing as they led him through security. Metal detectors. Wand checks. Long corridors with peeling paint and flickering lights.They reached the visitation room with a glass partition, plastic chairs, and a phone on each side. The guard motioned to the seat. “She’ll be out shortly.”Mia stayed back near the wall, f
