The world outside the safehouse felt too quiet. Too still. The kind of silence that wasn’t peaceful—it was waiting. Watching.

I’d been awake all night. The air was thick with the kind of dread that gnaws at the back of your neck, whispering every possible way things could go wrong. But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t rest. Dante was still out there—bleeding, broken, and in their hands.

I stared at the map spread across the table, my fingers trembling slightly as I traced the red marks Luca had drawn. Each circle represented an enemy base. Each X was a possible trap. We’d narrowed it down to one location—a private compound...