Return to the Edge
The desert didn't whisper secrets.
It screamed them.
Winds howled over sand-swept asphalt, dust clinging to Leonardo's boots as he stepped off the private jet in a forgotten airstrip outside Al Ain. The sun was merciless, but it was quiet. That was all he needed.
Tabane emerged behind him, one hand shielding her eyes, the other dragging a luggage case retrofitted with a grave-core lift unit that she claimed would "absolutely not cause a thermonuclear incident." He hadn't dared ask.
"Why the desert?" she asked, hopping down onto the tarmac. "Could've picked France, Leo. Or literally anywhere with air-conditioning."
Leonardo squinted toward the horizon. A convoy of vehicles was approaching in the distance—discreet, armored, but not military. The kind of transport that belonged to men who knew how to hide wars inside contracts.
"They're not the kind of people who meet in coffee shops."
"Ah," she said. "The cloak-and-dagger kind."
He gave a slight nod. "Time to check in with an old ghost."
The Man Behind the Curtain
The lead vehicle stopped a few feet away and a man stepped out. Clean suit, calm demeanor, military posture—older, sharp-eyed, but not cruel.
Mr. Nobody.
He looked at Leonardo like someone evaluating a rare and dangerous prototype. Then, without a word, extended his hand.
Leonardo took it.
"Mr. DeMarco," Mr. Nobody said, smiling. "Or should I say... Leonardo the Ghost?"
Leonardo raised an eyebrow. "Didn't know I had a nickname."
"Oh, you have several. Some departments think you're a myth. Others think you're part of Project Prometheus. I just think you're interesting."
Tabane leaned against the hover-case. "He's also good-looking. Don't forget that."
Nobody smirked. "And apparently well-defended."
Leonardo got to the point. "Why did you call me?"
"I didn't," Mr. Nobody said, walking toward the shade of a modular command tent. "You called me. Back in Rio. You made a ripple. Now I want to know which direction the wave's going."
Crossroads and Connections
Inside the command post, a dozen screens showed global hotspots. But one image was pinned in the center of the room—a grainy, black-and-white surveillance still of Letty Ortiz.
"Tell me what you know," Leonardo said, voice low.
Mr. Nobody didn't hesitate. "She's alive. Working with Owen Shaw. Possible memory loss. High-level ops. Lethal, efficient, and loyal… to the wrong side."
Leonardo's gaze didn't waver. "What do you need?"
"We have intel that Shaw is moving parts of his operation through Eastern Europe. But the pieces aren't fitting. You have access to channels we don't. People we can't reach."
"Off the books?"
"Always."
Leonardo studied the screens, then gave a single nod.
"I'll give you what I find. But when Dom calls... I'm not just watching from the shadows anymore."
Mr. Nobody smiled. "Didn't think you would."
A Tangled Web
Back at the estate, Tabane took to her floating lab like a fish to water—expanding its capabilities daily. The place now had a stealth barrier, EMF scramblers, and a miniature particle collider she built out of "spare scrap."
Leonardo monitored Shaw's movements through a spiderweb of sources—Koko's intel channels, military contractors, ex-Spetsnaz contacts, and a few unsanctioned lines he kept buried beneath layers of code.
Every name he traced led back to one central hub:
London.
Shaw was building something there. Moving parts like a chess grandmaster ten moves ahead.
And then came the call.
The Voice of Family
It was Mia.
Her voice trembled. "He found out. About Letty."
Leonardo closed his eyes. "Dom?"
"He's going. You know how he is. I can't stop him."
"Is Brian going with him?"
A pause. "He says he has to. But I know he's doing it for Dom. And maybe... because he needs something to fight again."
Leonardo leaned against the stone railing of his balcony.
"I'll be there," he said.
"You don't have to—"
"I do."
Gathering the Storm
He made preparations.
Alfred handled the estate. Koko kept the company running, weaving in and out of grey market dealings and black-tie meetings. Tabane retooled a prototype vehicle Leonardo had been designing—a hyper-adaptable interceptor disguised as a vintage Aston Martin.
Leonardo didn't bring an army.
He brought his silence.
His strategy.
His ghosts.
He flew commercial. No tracking. No trail. By the time he stepped off the plane in London, Dom was already there, hunting. Brian was circling. And Letty—Letty was moving through the underworld like a shadow with no past.
In the Drift of Smoke and Memory
He didn't meet them yet.
Not face to face.
Instead, he watched. A rooftop here, a hotel security feed there. He watched Dom chase the specter of someone he couldn't believe had come back without remembering him.
Leonardo saw her in the crowd once.
Letty.
She looked... older. Harder. Scarred. But alive.
He didn't approach her.
Not yet.
This wasn't his story to claim.
It was Dom's.
And Leonardo would help him reclaim it, even if he had to burn the shadows that tried to keep it buried.
Foreshadowing the War
Late one night, Leonardo stood with Gisele on a quiet London rooftop. She was the only one he told about Letty.
"You think she'll remember?" she asked.
"I don't know," Leonardo answered. "But if she does… it won't be because someone told her who she was."
"And Shaw?"
Leonardo looked into the darkened skyline.
"He's more dangerous than they think. He's not just a thief. He's a recruiter. A strategist. A man with a plan that ends in fire."
"Then we burn it first," Gisele said.
Leonardo smiled faintly. "That's the idea."