Chapter 10 Smoke and Signals

The rain in Milan was soft but persistent, shrouding the ancient city in a gauze of gray mist. Alessandro stood atop a private high-rise overlooking the Piazza del Duomo, his phone pressed to his ear.

"Bianca's second-in-command is hosting a secret meet with three minor syndicates tomorrow," Marco's voice crackled. "We intercept that meeting, we disrupt her next move."

Alessandro's jaw flexed. "Send the location. We'll go in quiet."

Back at the villa, Elena was training-her fists wrapped in gauze, pounding into a suspended sandbag. Sweat rolled down her temple, but her form was sharp, her focus razor-thin.

"You're stronger every day," Marco said, watching her with a nod of approval.

She paused, catching her breath. "I don't want to just be stronger. I want to be faster, sharper. I want her to know I see through her façade."

"She knows," he said. "That's why she's baiting you."

Elena's fists struck the bag again. "Then I'll take the bait... and the trap with it."

That night, Elena and Alessandro suited up for the mission. She wore black-no glamor, just efficiency. He wore tactical gear under a long coat, sleek and ready. They moved through the rainy streets in silence, guided by encrypted comms and Marco's surveillance feeds.

The meeting was in an abandoned opera house on the outskirts of the city-opulent decay, hollowed beauty, and perfect cover. Inside, shadows moved like whispers.

Elena slipped through a broken side door, crouching behind fallen velvet curtains. Alessandro took the balcony, eyes on the floor below.

Three men stood at the center, speaking in hushed tones. One of them-Rico Alvarez, a former Spanish trafficker-wore a silver pin that confirmed Matteo's intel. The others, unrecognizable, passed envelopes and flash drives.

Elena inched closer, the weight of her pistol steady at her thigh. One wrong move, and everything would explode.

Then a flicker-movement above. A fourth figure.

"Sniper on the north balcony," Alessandro's voice murmured through her earpiece. "She's covering them. Not police."

"Bianca's eyes?" Elena whispered.

"Could be."

She nodded. "I'm going in."

"Wait for the signal."

But Elena moved anyway. Like a shadow, she crossed the opera's ruined stage and ducked behind marble columns. She was close enough now to hear their conversation.

"She expects full delivery by the end of the week," Rico said.

"She'll get it. But not if we're being watched."

Elena's breath caught. A silent alarm had tripped. They knew someone was here.

"Pull out," Alessandro ordered.

"No," she said. "I'm taking the drive."

In a blur, she lunged from behind cover. The men turned too late. Her boot collided with Rico's knee, and he dropped. She grabbed the flash drive and dove as bullets shredded the air.

Alessandro leapt from the balcony, firing at the sniper, who scrambled back.

Smoke bombs detonated-Marco's doing. Vision vanished in gray.

"Exit west corridor!" he barked over comms.

Elena and Alessandro sprinted through the haze, emerging onto the wet street, hearts pounding.

Back at the villa, Elena dropped the flash drive onto the war room table. "She's moving funds and weapons through shell companies. Everything leads to Venice."

Alessandro stared at the map. "Then that's where we go next."

As the rain fell outside, Elena leaned against the window, watching droplets race each other down the glass.

"This isn't just a mission," she whispered. "It's a chess game."

"And we just captured her queen's pawn," Alessandro said. "Now let's make her bleed for every square."

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