MIKE 
The cool Italian air hit me as I stepped out of the airport. 
The airport was buzzing with travelers, laughter, loud conversations, and rolling suitcases, but all I could hear was the subtle ticking of time because time was something we didn’t have much of.
I scanned the terminal. No tails. No watchers. So far, clean. But this was Italy. And Siren ran Italy.
Every corner could be hers.
I hailed a cab, gave them the location. 
As the car pulled away from the curb, I watched the streets blur past.
The city unfolded like a living painting—old architecture woven with the pulse of modern lights. But my attention snagged the moment we turned a corner.
There it was.
Luna Vista Hotel.
It towered above the skyline like royalty among merchants. Its presence was silent, commanding… almost haunting.
I leaned slightly against the window without realizing it. Something about it made my skin crawl like beauty hiding a weapon behind its back.
“Most tourists have that look when they see Luna Vista,” the driver said suddenly, breaking the silence with a thick Italian accent. He caught my gaze in the rearview mirror and grinned. “Paradise, right?”
I blinked, catching myself.
I smiled faintly, shrugging as I pulled my “journalist” hat back on.
“Yeah. Never seen a hotel that tall before. What's the deal with it?”
He chuckled.
“Five-star everything. Richest people in Europe stay there. Some say it has secret tunnels underground… but that’s just stories.” He made a gesture with his fingers near his temple, signifying crazy.
I laughed along softly, though something inside me sharpened. Stories
Sometimes, those were the closest thing to truth.
My eyes lingered one last time on the building as we passed it.
The cab took another turn, and the hotel disappeared behind us.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, that was the place.
Where it would all start.
Or end.
The cab finally slowed to a stop in front of a quiet, unassuming building nestled between a row of small cafés and vintage shops. 
I stepped out, and I handed him a few folded bills. After a quick scan of the street, I entered the building.
Inside, the apartment was dimly lit but clean. I dropped my bag on the couch and took a deep breath.
I had just finished unpacking the essential gear laptop, concealed weapons when the knock came 
Three short knocks. A pause. Then two more. I reached for my gun out of instinct, but relaxed when I peered through the peephole.
FBI David Connors and  CIA Ener Thomas. 
I opened the door.
Connors entered first. Behind him was Ener, 
None of us said much at first. Just nods. Recognition. Respect. And then we moved, almost on cue, toward the round table in the corner of the safehouse.
I rolled out the map I’d brought the marked one.
A physical one. Paper. Unhackable.
The table creaked as we leaned over it. I pulled a pen out of my pocket and circled a spot southwest of Florence.
“This,” I said, tapping it twice.
“This is where I believe Agent Leon will touch down. Based on his usual route,  he’ll take the longer path. Safer. Fewer eyes.”
Connors leaned in.
"That’s a rural corridor. Locals won’t notice a new face unless he flashes cash or accents too hard.”
Ener spoke for the first time.
“And that route threads close to Luna Vista Hotel ”
I nodded grimly.
“Exactly. Which tells us something Leon’s not avoiding Siren. He wants to be seen.”
Connors grunted. “Or baiting her.”
The air in the room felt heavy. I took a breath.
“We need to tail him without alerting Siren. I’ll take Point Alpha here,” I said, drawing a line along a minor highway .
“Connors, you take the rail intersection northeast. Ener, you monitor air signals and intercept any burner pings.”
Ener gave a curt nod. “If I get even a fragment of a signal, I’ll triangulate.”
I stood up, eyes scanning both men.
We walked the building and went on our designate location
--
I drove to Luna Vista parking lot hoping for some clues.
I parked in the shadows and was supposed to observe. Just observe. As I turned off the engine and reached for my phone, my eyes caught movement near the private elevator entrance. Two men, one woman.
I froze.
Siren.
Beside her was a man I instantly recognized,  The Italian Don. He was taller in person than I remembered from the grand ball. 
But the third one made my blood halt in its veins.
The doctor. The same man who’d me that night at the grand ball. 
I’d spent weeks chasing a ghost.
And now, he walked right in front of me. Who the hell was he?
I reached for my phone, opened the camera and then hesitated. Siren suddenly stopped walking.
Slowly, deliberately, she turned her head and looked over her shoulder straight toward my location 
My breath hitched.
Could she saw me? Or was it instinct?
Elio followed her gaze,  Then, as if nothing happened, they entered a car and drove away
Gone.
I sat frozen in the driver's seat, pulse thudding in my ears but immediately followed them at eased out of the lot two vehicles behind. Enough distance not to be obvious. But still… I knew this wouldn’t work.
Not with her
Siren has a sixth sense when she’s being followed. She’d been hunted her whole life trained to sniff out shadows before they even existed. 
I immediately picked up my phone and speed-dialed FBI David.
He answered on the first ring.
“Yeah?”
“I’m tailing a Maserati leaving Luna Vista. It’s Siren’s.”
“You’re alone?”
“I won’t be. I need a switch now,” I said, checking my mirror. “Get eyes three blocks ahead. Use your civvie car.”
“Got it. On the move.”
I took a sharp left, breaking visual with the target car. Then circled twice through narrow alleys before slowing near the main avenue.
A gray Fiat appeared moments later.
Agent David’s vehicle.
I flashed headlights once. He responded with a signal, then took the route in the direction the Maserati had gone. It was a clean relay.
Now, I parked on the curb near an old café, walked out the car and acting like a lost tourist with a map in my hands. 
Suddenly, My phone buzzed.
'FBi David'
I answered immediately, “What’s the update?”
His voice came through, laced with static and tension.
“Siren’s car just picked up speed. She’s not taking any detours looks like she’s heading west, maybe toward the outer district.”
“Keep your distance,” I said, tightening my grip on the steering wheel.
“I’m trying, but” his voice hitched, “I’ve got a police motorbike tailing me now. No sirens. Just riding my ass.”
I cursed under my breath. “Damn it.”
“Back off if you have to. I’m on the way to your location,” I told him, glancing at the GPS, weaving through the side streets.
Then another buzz.
A text from CIA Ener
“No sign of Leon yet. Will keep posted"
I tried to text back but wasn't delivered. My signal died. The screen froze.
“No service,” the status bar mocked me.
I lowered the phone and stared out the windshield. The city around me didn’t seem any different—but I could feel it. 
They jammed our comms.
I slammed my foot on the gas.
“Dammit.”
At first, I was sure we were compromised. That Siren had discovered us, jammed our frequencies, and this was the beginning of the takedown. But then something didn’t add up.
I looked outside the car window.
A couple on the sidewalk stood frozen, waving their phones in the air like antennas. Across the street, a group of teenagers crowded around a small electronics store, frustrated and tapping furiously on their screens. A man at a café knocked over his espresso trying to get a signal and cursed in rapid Italian.
I scanned the street. Everyone was doing the same thing.
*Searching for signal.*
That’s when I felt it in my gut this wasn’t a surgical strike on us. It was city-wide. Which begged the bigger question why?
Why kill the signal in one of the busiest, most connected cities in the world?
--
I circled back to the last corner where I saw Siren’s car turn. Nothing.
No taillights.
No tire marks.
No trace.
I gripped the steering wheel, leaning forward as I scanned the streets
“I know what I saw,” I muttered,  I checked every possible turn, alley, even a private underground lot nearby. Still nothing.
I leaned back against my car, exhaling slowly.
I stayed still behind the wheel. I closed my eyes for a second, trying to ground myself but something kept gnawing at me.
Then my eyes opened slowly, scanning.
No people rushing. No random chatter. No vendors. And then No CCTV.
I sat up straighter. That’s odd
Italy’s urban zones especially in a city like this—had decent surveillance. Even tourist-heavy spots had coverage. But here? No cameras. Not a single dome, not even an old rusted one. Just blind corners and dead zones.
Something about this place wasn’t meant for public eyes.
Then I saw someone.
A matte-gray car eased into a spot a few meters away from me. Sleek, tinted windows, no front plate. Clean. Too clean.
I leaned forward, adjusting the rearview slightly for a better angle.
The driver's side door opened.
A woman stepped out  mid-30s, tall, brunette, athletic build. Unfamiliar face.
She moved to her trunk, popped it open, and casually pulled out a long, zippered case. Even from here, I could tell by the way she carried it controlled and balanced ,it wasn’t luggage.
"It was a weapon"
Sniper rifle. I was sure of it. I stiffened in my seat, following her every move.
Then she turned, scanning the area quickly. She made her way toward the construction scaffolding on the building’s side. Metal ladders zigzagged upward like a spine. Without missing a beat, she began climbing.
Up.
Up.
Up.
Gone from my view.
"What the hell was this place?"
"No signal. No CCTV. And now a sniper climbing into position."
 I stepped out of the car slowly, playing it cool tourist-mode activated. My eyes scanned the buildings lazily, like I was lost or admiring old architecture.
Then a door nearby creaked open.
A little girl,maybe seven or eight, stepped out from a narrow doorway to my left. She tilted her head slightly, as if trying to figure me out.
I gave her a soft smile, just enough to seem harmless, but her eyes didn’t soften. Instead, she looked around left, right scanning. Then without a word, her small hand grabbed my bag
I flinched instinctively, backing a step. She looked up at me, serious. Her grip tightened.
“È quasi ora. Vieni," (It’s almost time. Come.) Her voice was steady, serious no childish lilt.
I blinked. "Cosa intendi con 'quasi ora'?" (What do you mean ‘almost time’?)
She didn’t answer. Instead, she looked around once more this time quicker and pulled on my arm.
“Vieni.” (Come)
I hesitated for half a second before letting her guide me. The same door she came from was still cracked open. She slipped in, tugging me behind her.
The girl’s grip on my hand suddenly disappeared.
A woman mid-40s, sharp eyes, dark hair tied in a tight bun snatched her away, pulling the child behind her protectively.
“Ti ho detto di non uscire!” (i told you not to go outside!)
The girl bowed her head quickly.
“Mi dispiace. Non succederà più.” (I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.)
I stayed still, hands visible, my demeanor neutral but alert.
The woman turned her attention to me now. Her gaze raked over me like a scanner. Not hostilebut cautious. Very cautious.
 she asked, tone sharp. "You are not from here, right"
I offered a small smile, intentionally fumbling my words a bit to keep the “lost tourist” act believable.
"No, ma’am... tourist. I got lost, I was looking for an art... gallery"
She didn’t buy it. Her eyes narrowed. "And what are you doing in this alley"
The little girl peeked from behind her, watching me closely.
I shrugged, feigning nervousness.
"I’m sorry... I took the wrong road. I didn’t mean to cause trouble"
I turned, walking away down the corridor, my senses buzzing.
Behind me, the door shut. Hard.
Then a faint beep, almost like a coded signal rung. The woman tensed and walked toward one of the rooms. 
Seconds later. Gunfire From outside.
My instincts took over. I grabbed the little girl, flipped the sofa over with one smooth motion, and shielded us behind it.
The girl gasped but didn’t scream. She wasn’t afraid
That confirmed it.
“Stay down,” I whispered to her in Italian.
The woman re-emerged, a pistol now in her hand. She didn’t look surprised. Not alarmed.
She motioned to me with the barrel of the gun.
"Get up. Come here.”
I hesitated, then slowly obeyed. She pushed me toward the back wall, away from the windows.
“Stay here.”
Then **Bang!**
The front door burst open and a man stormed in, weapon raised But she shot him without hesitation.
One clean shot. No stutter, no second guessing.
He collapsed on the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.
I looked around the room. It wasn’t a home. Not really. The furniture was sparse, nothing personal.
No clutter, no warmth.
Even the food on the table looked too placed
Everything in this room was staged.
“This isn’t your house, is it?” I said aloud, my voice even.
The woman didn’t answer.
She just slowly walked over to the downed man and retrieved something from his coat a phone, or maybe a flash drive.
I watched, not moving.
She knew I was watching.
Suddenly, The woman lunged at me swift and sharp like a viper. She went for my jacket, maybe to check for wires or a weapon. But I was faster.
I caught her wrist mid-air, twisted it behind her back, spun her around, and in one fluid motion, I swept her off balance and pressed her against the wall.
Her pistol slipped from her grip. I kicked it aside but in a split second, scooped it up and pointed it right back at her. With a quick move, I pinned her legs between mine, forcing her completely still cornered.
She glared at me, defiant even in defeat, blood now trickling from the corner of her lip.
“So… you’re one of them, huh?” she spat.
I didn’t flinch.
“I’m not,” I replied calmly, gun steady in my hand. “But I know enough to see you’re not just some civilian in hiding.”
I lowered my face closer, my tone shifting colder.
“Who was that man you just killed?”
She didn’t speak.
The little girl was behind the sofa, peeking through the edge, completely silent.
The woman’s breathing was heavy, but her eyes stayed locked with mine.
“Who are you?” I asked again.
The tension thickened.