Chapter 13: The Coldest Peak
The sun had not yet crested the horizon when the black town car pulled onto the tarmac of Linate Airport's private terminal. Milan was a smudge of charcoal and indigo in the rearview mirror, but inside the car, the air was thick with a silence that felt like a physical weight. Élise sat as far to the right as the leather seat allowed, her fingers tracing the hem of her wool coat. Beside her, Adriano Moretti was a silhouette of sharp lines and cold intent. He hadn't spoken since they left his office building, his focus entirely on the glowing screen of his phone, his jaw set in a way that suggested he was chewing through glass.
