CRAVE-IN

The rain painted Rome in silver streaks as Alessandro Moretti stepped out of the black Maserati. He moved like a storm-silent, cold, and absolute. The leather of his gloves creaked slightly as he adjusted the cuff of his tailored coat. People didn't look at him directly. They never did.

"Target is inside," Marco said, his voice calm over the earpiece.

Alessandro didn't respond. He didn't need to. Two minutes later, a gunshot echoed from inside the stone building, muffled by a silencer. When he stepped back outside, there wasn't a drop of blood on his clothes, but the air was thick with finality.

ll Fantasma. The Ghost. That's what they called him in whispers.

His driver started the car, but before he could close the door, a scream split through the air. A black SUV had slammed into a café two blocks away. Flames licked the edges of the street. Alessandro's eyes locked on the chaos-but something else caught his attention.

A woman. She was crawling out of the debris, blood smeared on her forehead, eyes wide with shock. Not screaming. Not crying. Just crawling, dazed, toward nothing.

"Wait," Alessandro said. His driver froze.

He approached her slowly, cautiously. Civilians were screaming, running. Sirens echoed faintly in the distance. But all Alessandro saw was the woman.

She collapsed.

He crouched beside her. "Can you hear me?"

She blinked. Beautiful. Fragile. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came.

Alessandro looked to Marco, who had followed. "Bring her."

"What? Boss, we don't know who-"

"Now."

As he walked back to the car, Alessandro didn't understand why he was taking her. It was illogical. Dangerous. But something about her silence unnerved him more than bullets ever had.

Inside the car, the woman leaned against the seat, unconscious. Her pulse was steady. Her name, he would learn later, was Elena Caruso.

He didn't know it yet, but she was going to ruin everything.