He's alone, which is unusual. Normally Emilio is with him, the two of them moving in sync the way twins do, finishing each other's sentences and anticipating each other's needs. But today it’s Claudio, sitting on the bench with a disassembled pistol spread across the table in front of him, cleaning each piece with methodical precision.
"How's our guest?" I ask.
"Settled. Already working." He doesn't look up from the pistol. "She started digging into the banking systems."
"And you've been watching her."
"That's the job."
"Is it?"
He looks up then. His eyes are flat. Controlled. The eyes of a man who doesn't let anything slip that he doesn't intend to show.
"She's a variable," he says. "I don't like variables."
"You never do."
"Variables get people killed." He sets down the pistol barrel, picks up the slide. "But she's also the only person besides Alexandra who understands what we're looking at. If we're going to trace Giovanni’s network, we need her. It’ll also give Alex a much-needed break and you two can focus on yourselves for once."
"And if she turns out to be a plant?"
"Then I handle it." His voice is final. "That's what I do."
I watch him work. The steady hands. The controlled breathing. Emilio is all instinct and speed, explosions and improvisation. Claudio is calculation and control. The blade to his brother's sledgehammer.
"Aurelio is tightening control," I say. "Pulling back on offensive operations, focusing on surveillance and retaliation. He wants psychological chaos, not open warfare."
"Makes sense. The Castillo’s are bleeding us dry between their warehouse hits and taking over the ports. We can't sustain a prolonged conflict."
"He wants you running point on the quiet work. The precise stuff. The threats that need to disappear without anyone knowing they were threats at all."
He slots the slide onto the frame, chambers a round, checks the safety. His movements are fluid, automatic. Twenty years of practice condensed into muscle memory.
"Alexandra found a connection between Apex Meridian and Westpoint."
"Westpoint?"
"Westpoint Academy. Private college. Old money, political dynasties. There was a war between us and the Castillo’s and then the building went up in flames. Secret societies, students who disappeared. The Silent. I was there. Didn’t think it all lead to the same source, but here we are."
Claudio goes still.
"I've heard that name," he says quietly. “You’d know more than I do.”
He stands. Holsters the pistol.
"Leone. If this goes where I think it's going, if The Silent is real and Giovanni Russo is connected to it... we're going to need more than soldiers. We're going to need to dismantle their financial infrastructure from the inside."
"We will figure the pieces out. It’s just a matter of time.”
He nods once and leaves.
I sit alone in the armory, surrounded by weapons. Westpoint. The Castillo’s. Us. All of it leading back to one point. And we'vebrought yet another civilian into the middle of it, a woman who can help mine with bearing the load of uncovering it all.
Walking out, still deep in thought, I find Alexandra in our quarters, hunched over her laptop. She looks up when I enter, and I can see the exhaustion in her eyes. She's been working longer hours since Charlotte arrived, cross-referencing everything the new asset has identified with her own research.
"Anything?" I ask.
"Too much." She leans back, rubbing her eyes. "Charlotte's good. She’s taking my ties and finding the banks they’re attached to. The piece I’ve been trying to solve, but with a project this big, I can only do so much. She connected someone with the larger corporations I’ve been looking at. But… I think she’s hiding something.”
