SIREN
Italy was colder than I remembered.
I leaned back in the leather chair, fingers steepled in front of my face, eyes fixed on Elio. He was swirling his drink lazily, as if discussing a president's death was no more serious than reviewing a mediocre bottle of Chianti.
"You think it’s worth the risk?" I asked.
Elio smiled without warmth. “I think you’ve already taken bigger ones, Si. And if Bobby Ford’s death was not a coincidence, then… perhaps it’s time to summon the others.”
The room fell silent for a beat.
The others.
The very mention of them was enough to trigger old blood memories and unreadable dossiers. I was about to respond when a knock came at the door.
Three sharp taps. Jeremiah stepped in.
“What?” I asked, not in the mood for interruptions.
He didn’t answer immediately—his hand was raised, holding a phone to his ear. Then he mouthed something.
“Gray.”
Jeremiah walked in slowly, holding the phone out toward me. “He says it’s urgent.”
He wouldn’t call unless something was on fire. I took the phone.
“Speak.”
--
"Say that again," I ordered, and without waiting for his reply, I pressed the phone’s speaker icon.
Jeremiah stiffened by the door, and Elio turned his head toward me, one brow slightly raised.
Gray’s voice came through, firm and steady.
“Based on intel from Agent Rock—Agent Leon is headed to Italy. Allegedly… he’s planning to meet Samuel.”
The air shifted.
Elio stood in one fluid motion, his glass forgotten on the table. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit and pulled out a secure black phone
He walked to the far end of the room, pressed a few digits, and waited.
“Code Red.”
He hung up.
I watched him as he turned to face me again
“He knows,” I said, my voice low.
He nodded grimly.
“Samuel might have found out we have his family.”
Gray’s voice cut back in
“What do you want us to do?”
I picked up the phone again, my fingers tightening around it.
“If Leon’s meeting Samuel, then he’s either a pawn… or worse. .”
“Track Leon. If he crosses the Vatican perimeter, I want eyes on him from every angle.
And Gray?”
“Yes, Si?”
“… kill the power to the city.”
I turned back from the window, the last trace of Gray’s voice still ringing in my mind. Plans were already.
Elio, however, had other things on his mind.
He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, his movements short and sharp. Then he scoffed and turned to me with a glare.
“What the hell is wrong with your ex-fiancé, Si?” he snapped. “Does he even know what he’s doing?”
I met his eyes, unflinching.
“He does.”
Elio laughed bitterly, taking a slow step forward. His voice dipped, low and cold.
“Leon was always too damn hungry.”
He shook his head. “Power. Legacy. Revenge. He wanted it all but never understood the cost.” He glanced sideways at me. “He doesn’t know what sacrifices it demands… or who it devours in return.”
I didn’t reply because I know damn well.
Leon was brilliant once—precise, ruthless in mission, strategic in chaos. But something had changed. After my silence. After everything we used to be shattered into history and secrets.
Now?
He wasn’t just chasing shadows.
He was becoming one.
“Then we prepare,” I said finally, my voice sharpened with resolve.
“Tighten security across the Palermo corridors. I want snipers above every estate with links to the Meier family.”
“We still holding them at Cassano?”
“Yes,” I said. “Until I say otherwise.”
“And Samuel?”
I looked up at him, the firelight reflecting in my eyes.
“If he comes for them…”
I picked up the same knife I used on Sian days ago.
“…we make sure he doesn’t leave.”
Elio smiled darkly, finally pleased.
“Italy’s about to bleed again, isn’t it?”
Elio stood near the fireplace, arms crossed, eyes burning into me as if trying to read every unspoken thought.
"It doesn’t make sense," he finally muttered, breaking the silence.
"It’s impossible Leon doesn’t know who you are here in Italy. Not after all the moves you've made. He’s not stupid."
I didn’t look at him. I already knew where this was going.
"He knows," I answered simply, swirling the wine in my glass.
"He knows exactly who I am. Where I am. And what I’m capable of."
"Then why—" Elio’s tone sharpened. "—why the hell would he still come here? That’s suicide. Even for him."
I finally turned to him, letting the edge of a smirk lift one corner of my mouth.
"Because Leon knows I won’t kill him…" I paused, taking a long sip of the wine, letting the bitter red warmth slide down my throat.
"Not yet."
Elio narrowed his eyes.
"Not until you get what you want."
I nodded, setting the glass down.
"He knows me too well. That’s what he’s holding on to."
I stepped closer to the map on the table, tracing the route Leon would’ve taken to reach Palermo.
"Leon meeting Samuel here wasn’t just some random gamble. It wasn’t arrogance, and it wasn’t desperation."
"Then what was it?"
I looked him in the eye.
"A test."
"Of what?"
A faint smile tugged at my lips as I answered:
"My reaction."
Elio’s expression shifted—calculating, cautious. For the first time, he didn’t speak right away.
He understood.
This wasn’t just strategy anymore.
This was personal