Rodrigo ignored them all and pulled out a chair for Giana. If their teasing bothered her, she didn't show it.
Rodrigo took the seat beside her, not at the head, but angled toward her. He nodded to Dante. "Give me the good news if there is any."
"The mercs from the ambush are singing, finally. Not choirboys, but they're hitting the notes we need." He tossed a slim file onto the table in front of Rodrigo. "Hired muscle. Top tier, expensive, deniable. Came in through a broker in Naples, payment routed through three shell companies before vanishing into the usual digital swamp."
"They were contracted for a probe," Silas spoke up from beside Iz. "Basic shit like test the villa's perimeter response times, identify weak points in the patrol rotations, gauge our reaction speed to an external incursion. Intel gathering, pure and simple. They weren't supposed to have a shot at killing you, but they saw the opportunity and took it."
"Who were they reporting to?" Rodrigo asked.
"They never met the principal. Communications were encrypted, via dead drops and voice scramblers. They know the job was bankrolled by Falcone interests, but the operational specifics came from someone higher, someone who terrified their broker just by mentioning his name. The broker kept calling him the Old Man, like all the others."
"They know nothing else about him? This code name is getting beyond ridiculous," Rodrigo said, his fingers steepled on the tabletop.
"They didn't say anything useful," Silas replied, "except to confirm that Vincenzo's been meeting with someone powerful. Someone who makes even the hardened Sicilian crew nervous. Whispers of 'old blood' and 'old ways.'"
"Charming," Julian drawled from where he stood near the fireplace, a crystal tumbler of amber liquid in one massive hand. His other arm was draped casually around Altun's shoulders.
The Sorceress of Istanbul took his drink and downed it, her green eyes thoughtful. "Nothing like a geriatric crime lord with a penchant for theatrics to liven up a siege."
"We are under siege? Since when?" Giana's voice cut through the low murmur that followed Dante's report.
"Well, they aren't quite here yet, but it won't be long." Leo swiveled his chair, his expression grim. He tapped a key on his laptop, and the largest monitor on the wall flickered to life, displaying a complex map overlay of Tuscany, dotted withclusters of red icons moving steadily toward a central point marked with the Colleoni sigil.
"We have Falcone-aligned forces, bolstered by a significant number of hired muscle, including Corsicans, Albanians, and even a contingent that looks suspiciously like some of Morozov's old crew. They aren't scattered units for a raid. This is going to be a coordinated assault wave." Leo zoomed in on the estimated timeline bar at the bottom. "Best guess? They hit the perimeter in force within a few hours. This isn't just a skirmish. They mean to bury us."
Silence descended, thick and heavy. The teasing mood from moments ago evaporated, replaced by the hard reality of numbers and the imminent threat of violence.
Kon, who had been silently observing, arms crossed over his broad chest, finally spoke. "They will find it harder than they expect. We have laid a lot of toys around the perimeter for them to enjoy."
Beside him, Athena merely ran a whetstone along the blade of a wickedly curved dagger. "I hope they bring better men with them than the ones in the basement. I wouldn't hire those useless assholes to pick up a take-away order, let alone attack seasoned mercenaries."
Giana stared at the maps, focusing on the intricate network lines overlaying the terrain. They were communication relays, cell towers, and the known Falcone digital infrastructure nodes Leo had flagged.
"The walls," she said, her voice distracted.
"Go on," Rodrigo replied with a nod.
She took a breath, leaning forward slightly, tapping the screen where a cluster of red icons represented a known Falcone communications hub south of Siena.
"Let them throw themselves at the walls. Kon, Athena, you can bleed them there." She shifted her finger to the digitaloverlay. "But while they are focused on the physical siege, we hit them where they're not looking."
She traced a complex digital pathway on the screen. "Vincenzo Falcone runs his empire like a medieval warlord, but even warlords need phones, radios, encrypted comms, financial transfers, and logistics coordination. His digital infrastructure is robust, but Leo has already got it mapped and backdoored." She glanced at Leo, who gave a sharp, confirming nod. "We know their systems and their weak points. I built back doors and a few dormant viruses into the Colleoni networks when I stole Gabriella's fortune. I can use them to infect Vincenzo's connection that we let him have to spy on us."
Dark amusement ran through Rodrigo. He should have known that she would have left a way back into their system. She was too smart not to.
Giana pressed on. "While they're hammering the gates, I can dismantle Vincenzo's command and control it from the inside. Cripple their communications, scramble their logistics, freeze their assets, turn their own surveillance feeds against them. Make them blind and deaf before they even breach the outer courtyard."
She paused, letting the plan sink in. It required her to be deep in the system, while literal hell raged outside the villa walls, and Rodrigo would have to trust that she could handle the pressure.
"It won't stop the bullets," Giana admitted, meeting Rodrigo's gaze directly, "but it will blunt their assault. It will turn their siege into a chaotic, disorganized mess, especially when they learn Vincenzo doesn't have the money to pay them."
Silence held for a beat longer, and then Dario whistled, low and appreciative. "Damn, Sorrentino. Going straight for the jugular. I like it."
"It's a sound plan," Leo stated, pulling up schematics. "High-gain, high-risk, and it requires precise timing and deep access."
"Which we have," Giana said firmly.
"The access window will be narrow," Iz cautioned. "Once they realize they are under digital attack, they will scramble to isolate and trace."
