Chapter 11 - DAWN OVER THE TUSCAN VILLAThe Tuscan sunrise painted the rolling hills and olive groves in breathtaking shades of gold and rose.
Hidden among the cypress trees sat Villa Rosa—a sprawling, secluded stone estate surrounded by wrought-iron gates and manicured gardens. To any tourist passing by, it looked like a postcard-perfect Italian sanctuary.
To Luca Moretti’s tactical team, it was a fortified target.
Three black unmarked vans rolled silently up the gravel driveway at 5:30 AM. Before the local guards stationed at the front gates could even reach their holsters, Marcus and his enforcers moved with terrifying, silent efficiency, neutralizing the security detail without firing a single shot.
Inside the main villa, the heavy oak front doors swung open under the quiet force of a tactical ram.
I rushed through the doorway right behind Luca, my heart hammering against my ribs like a sledgehammer.
“Search the upper bedrooms!” Luca ordered his men, his eyes scanning the grand marble foyer.
Footsteps echoed up the sweeping staircase as enforcers secured the perimeter. A moment later, an elderly woman in a housekeeper's apron rushed out from the hallway leading to the back garden, clutching a rosary in her trembling hands and speaking rapid, panicked Italian.
“Calm down, Maria,” Luca said in fluent, commanding Italian, stepping forward to block her path. “The game is over. Where is the child?”
The elderly woman stared at Luca, recognized the unmistakable aura of the Blackwell-Davis syndicate boss, and went completely pale. She pointed a shaky finger toward the sunroom at the back of the villa.
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“She... she’s in the garden,” Maria stammered in Italian. “Playing with her dolls.”
I didn't wait for another word. I sprinted down the corridor toward the arched glass doors leading out to the sunlit terrace.
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