The convoy raced up the winding mountain pass, tires spraying slush against the snowbanks along the road.
It was half-past five in the evening.
Dusk was falling fast over the Alps, painting the heavy cloud cover in bruised shades of violet and slate grey. Inside the backseat of the lead sedan, the silence was almost suffocating.
Nico sat still, his eyes fixed on the encrypted tablet in his lap. The screen showed the HD resolution of the building plans for the Ferrante estate, and at the top of the screen was the family crest… a silver falcon wrapped around a pomegranate.
His mother's private family seal.
Beside him, Mara watched his profile.
His jaw was locked tight; his breath was coming in slow, rigid exhales that showed the sheer tension holding him together. She had seen him angry, calculated, and lethal, but she had never seen him look like this… like he had been shaken by a ghost.
Mara reached out, her fingers lacing softly through his gloved hand.
