The fear clawing at her insides wasn't just for her own survival. It was a primal, gut-wrenching terror of losing him.
Pull yourself together and focus. He found you when you were taken, and now you need to find him.
"I need eyes," she heard herself say, her voice sounding strangely calm despite the storm raging inside. She pushed back from the workstation, forcing her legs to hold her weight.
"Leo, give me a feed. Anything. Satellite, traffic, drone… whatever you've got."
Leo nodded, his fingers tapping rapidly. A window opened on one of his secondary monitors, showing a grainy, shifting thermal imagery overlaid on a map. A cluster of bright orange and red near a winding road, fading now to cooler yellows and greens. Indistinct shapes. Impossible to tell if they were human, vehicular, or just the landscape cooling.
Giana stared at the shifting colors, willing them to resolve into something recognizable, something hopeful. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the suffocating silence of the room.
Where are you?
Dario muttered curses under his breath, his gaze fixed on the main entrance doors as if he could will them to open.
Iz's head snapped up. "Movement! Vehicle approaching the outer perimeter gate. Fast!"
The collective breath of the room hitched. Every eye snapped to the large security monitor displaying the main gate camera feed.
A dark shape resolved into a battered, dust-covered van, speeding down the long driveway.
"Is it him? Is it Rodrigo?" Dario demanded, surging toward the screen, shoving Leo aside.
"Registration isn't one of ours. We won't know if it's him until we get eyes on the driver."
Giana didn't wait. She turned and bolted, heading for the grand entrance hall.
"Giana, wait!" Silas's voice boomed behind her, followed by the sound of multiple pairs of boots giving chase.
She burst through the double doors into the courtyard just as the heavy main gates were being hauled open by two of Dario's men. In the fading afternoon light, the battered van skidded to a halt in front of the villa.
Frederica and Dario were suddenly beside her. He pulled her back a step as Frederica stepped in front, her hand resting near her handgun.
"Hold position," Dario ordered. He raised a rifle and looked through the scope. "Driver… It's Lupo!"
Relief warred with sharper fear. If Lupo was driving, where the fuck was Rodrigo?
The driver's door opened, and Father Lupo Sartori climbed out. He was covered in dust and grime, a dark, dried streak of blood marring his temple and silver hair. He ignored the weapons trained on him as he walked around to the back of the van and yanked the door open.
Rodrigo half-fell, half-staggered out of the van. He was a mess. Dust and soot coated his fine clothes, now torn and bloodied. A dark stain spread across the sleeve of his shirt near the bicep. Soot smeared his face, accentuating the stark lines of exhaustion and pain around his eyes and mouth. He looked like he'd crawled through hell, but he was alive.
"Bodies and prisoners!" His voice was a harsh rasp cutting through the stunned silence. "Two in the back! Secure them. Get me some fucking medical for Lupo!"
His gaze swept past the armed men, past Dario and Frederica, and locked onto Giana. The ferocity in his eyes intensified, but beneath the fury, Giana saw a flash of relief. Then it vanished, shuttered behind the mask.
"Get her out of here!" he barked, gesturing sharply toward Giana. "Now!"
Athena and Frederica moved instantly, stepping in front of Giana, their bodies forming a protective barrier.
"Come on, Giana," Athena said, her voice low but firm, taking Giana's elbow. "Let them handle this."
Giana resisted for a heartbeat, her eyes fixed on Rodrigo as he swayed slightly. Blood dripped from his injured arm onto the dusty cobblestones.
Lupo moved to support him, but Rodrigo waved him off with a sharp gesture, his attention already shifting to the men dragging two bound, groaning figures from the back of the van. One was unconscious, head lolling; the other limped badly, a dark stain on his thigh.
The sight of the prisoners, the blood covering Rodrigo, was the brutal reality of their world. The world he was still trying to shield her from.
Athena and Frederica gently steered her back toward the relative safety of the entrance hall, and Giana didn't fight them about it.
