I exhaled slowly, forcing the remnants of something dangerously close to emotion back into place.
Then I turned.
The movement was unhurried. Every inch of it measured.
My gaze landed on Renzo.
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t drop his eyes.
But I saw it.
The tension in his shoulders.
The way his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
Respect.
And something just beneath it.
Awareness.
He knew exactly what kind of day this was.
I swallowed once, pushing down the knot tightening in my throat, and lifted my wrist.
The watch face gleamed faintly in the sunlight.
11:55.
Five minutes.
That was all that stood between this mountain—
And the man I was expected to become in the city below.
I lowered my arm.
Gave a single, sharp flick of my fingers.
The signal.
The response was instant.
Men moved into position like a well-oiled machine, forming a corridor around me without a word.
Boots shifted against gravel. Jackets straightened. Weapons adjusted subtly but deliberately.
I walked forward.
The armored Maybach waited at the center of it all.
Black. Immaculate.
Untouched by the blood still drying on my skin.
The door opened before I reached it.
Handled like it was something sacred.
