The sun had barely risen over Rome when Dante’s phone buzzed insistently on the kitchen counter. His jaw tightened as he saw the message from Luca: “It’s worse than we thought. Someone in your inner circle has been working against you.”

Dante didn’t speak immediately. He let the words sink in, the weight of betrayal pressing against his chest. Every mission, every plan, every moment of vulnerability—compromised. He turned to Isabella, who had just entered the kitchen, her eyes narrowing as she read his expression.

“Someone close to us?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly, though she tried to mask it with strength.

“Yes,” Dante replied, his voice low, controlled,...