“You’ve visited her floor six times in three days. The men are talking.”
“Let them talk.”
“Leone.” Claudio steps closer, dropping his voice. “I’m not judging. I’m warning. Aurelio notices everything. If your attention is split—”
“My attention is exactly where it needs to be.”
He holds my gaze, then shrugs. That empty smile spreads across his face, the one that makes him look like a shark in a suit. “Of course it is. My mistake.”
He walks away, and I stand in the ashes of our warehouse, breathing smoke and thinking about a woman with storm-grey eyes.
The strategy session runs for four hours.
Aurelio sits at the head of the table, flanked by his senior advisors. Maps cover every surface. Red pins mark Castillo positions. Blue pins mark ours. The space between them is shrinking every day.
I present the casualty reports, the damage assessments, the intelligence gaps. I recommend countermeasures, retaliation targets, resource reallocation. My voice stays flat, professional. My mind stays focused.
Mostly.
When the meeting ends, Aurelio catches my arm. His grip is stronger than it looks—always has been.
“The girl,” he says quietly. “How is she?”
“Contained. Cooperative. No escape attempts.”
“Has she provided any useful intelligence?”
I hesitate. “Not yet. But she’s willing to help. She offered to review documents, identify patterns from her courier work.”
Aurelio’s eyebrows rise. “She offered?”
“She wants to be useful. People in her position usually do.”
“And you still trust her?”
The question hangs in the air. I think about her eyes, the way they burn, the way they challenge, the way they refuse to look away even when she should be terrified.
“I trust that she wants to survive,” I say. “That makes her predictable.”
Aurelio nods slowly. “Bring her into low-level analysis. Nothing sensitive. Let her prove herself.”
“Yes, sir.”
He releases my arm and turns away. I’m halfway to the door when he speaks again.
“Leone. The mole in our organization. Find them. Quickly.”
“I will.”
“I know you will.” His eyes hold mine. Could be approval. Could be a test. With Aurelio, it's always both. “You’ve never failed me. Don’t start now.”
I leave room and head for her door.
She’s doing pushups when I enter.
Not the half-hearted kind most people do… real pushups, military form, arms burning and sweat dripping onto the carpet. She sees me and doesn’t stop. keeps going, counting under her breath, until she hits some number that satisfies her and collapses onto her back.
“Knock much?” She’s breathing hard, but her voice is steady.
