The next day moved with a terrifying speed.
Luca had secured the coordinates from Petyr. The parley was set for ten o'clock that night at an abandoned rail yard just three miles across the Swiss border. It was a desolate, frozen expanse of rusting trains and empty shipping containers… perfectly neutral and perfectly dangerous.
By eight o'clock in the evening, the chalet was buzzing in tactical preparation.
Since Mara had abandoned all her clothes at the Ferrante estate, Rosa had raided the chalet's storage chests for winter gear. Mara stood in front of the full-length mirror in the master bedroom, looking at her reflection.
She was no longer wearing the sharp blazers, silk blouses, or pencil skirts of the Regent.
Tonight, she wore dark denim, practical leather boots designed for the snow, and a thick, black turtleneck sweater. Over it all, she wore a tailored, black leather jacket that Nico had procured from one of the loyalists.
