The morning air was crisp, biting even, as Isabella and Dante moved silently through the vineyard’s winding paths. Fog still clung to the ground, curling around the grapevines like ghostly fingers, and every rustle of leaves, every distant bird call, set their nerves on edge. The flash drive rested in Isabella’s coat pocket, heavy with secrets, every file a ticking reminder of Project Umbra and the twisted legacy they were up against.

Dante led the way, eyes scanning every shadow, every shape that could hint at movement. “Stay close,” he whispered, his voice barely disturbing the quiet. “We don’t know who’s watching or what they’ve set in motion while we...