Asher’s POV

The safehouse felt smaller by the day. Not in size, but in the way the walls seemed to press in on us, suffocating and heavy. The silence of the mafia was worse than any threat. We had made the first move, leaked what we could, and forced their hand. But instead of an immediate counterattack, the Don had gone quiet.

And that scared me more than anything.

Isabella sat at the worn wooden table, her laptop open in front of her. The glow from the screen cast sharp shadows across her face. She was focused, scrolling through a list of names, her fingers moving quickly as she jotted...