May 6, 2021. 19:31. Rome. 1 day left till the gala.
"This is a pretty good choke point." The words leave my mouth almost automatically.
I stand near one of the elevated walkways overlooking the venue while workers continue setting up below.
The gala site stretches across an entire avenue near the heart of Rome, transforming part of the city into something elegant, public-facing, and absurdly expensive.
At first glance, it looks like nothing more than a celebration of Rome itself. Rows of lights hang between historic buildings while temporary stages have been erected throughout the avenue. Catering staff move equipment between tents as event coordinators rush around with tablets and clipboards, and classical music drifts from speakers while technicians test sound systems for tomorrow's event.
To the average person, it looks beautiful. To me? It looks like a nightmare to secure.
Thanks to Dante and Wissen, I've already become familiar with the entire venue and its surrounding buildings.
Even so, from a security perspective, this place is a nightmare to defend and, honestly, a really fun playground if I were ever sent here to assassinate someone. There are too many entrances, too many rooftops, too many sightlines, and far too many places where a person could disappear into a crowd without anyone noticing.
Every solution creates another vulnerability somewhere else.
Which is exactly why I've spent the last few days mapping routes through the area whenever I get the chance.
I glance around.
Shock is talking to a technician for network access.
Remi is somehow talking to catering staff despite having absolutely no reason to be there.
Tetra is helping move equipment while pretending he isn't secretly conducting his own security assessment.
Mister stands near Dante and Wissen, quietly observing the flow of people.
And even if he looks calm, Dante is stressed deep down. The pressure of the gala is getting to him.
But honestly? It's getting to the rest of us too.
Tomorrow, there'll be a pretty little gala featuring the presentation of a railgun and the evaluation of a future crime syndicate leader.
What's not to love? Tomorrow is when the succession process finally begins.
For me, it's whatever. But for the rest of the mafia? This has been years in the making.
Which means tomorrow determines whether Dante becomes one of the most powerful men in Italy.
Yeah. Absolutely no pressure for Dante.
Or for the team responsible for making sure he gets to that point, us.
I lean against the railing.
The amount of money being poured into this thing is honestly pretty fucking ridiculous.
Workers move with near-military precision while city permits seem to have appeared overnight and road closures have been implemented without issue. Private security, catering, transportation, entertainment, logistics—every piece is already in motion despite how little time there was to organize it all.
The Camorra clearly isn't cheaping out, and the fact that all of this came together on relatively short notice makes me wonder just how many favours, debts, and strings had to be pulled behind the scenes to make it happen.
Probably way more than I need to know.
A sigh escapes me.
Literally last night, the entire team got dragged into an emergency meeting after everything went to hell.
Dante spent most of it pacing around the room with his phone pressed to his ear, making call after call while the rest of us watched the news reports roll in.
The footage showed an entire street on the outskirts of Rome turned upside down.
Black smoke billowed into the evening sky while emergency lights painted everything in flashing red and blue. Fire burned across damaged vehicles, shattered glass covered the pavement, and blood stained sections of the road that cameras tried not to linger on for too long.
According to Shock, incidents on that scale seldom made it onto mainstream media anymore.
Whatever happened had been severe enough that news helicopters arrived before some of the authorities did, and reporters were already broadcasting live from nearby intersections.
But unlike the general public, we knew more.
In fact, it was extremely obvious.
One of Dante's contacts had been attacked before a scheduled meeting.
His vehicle sat half-destroyed in the middle of the road, and footage of the wreckage was already circulating across local media channels. The official story was exactly what you'd expect: a suspected criminal attack, no confirmed suspects, and an ongoing investigation by local authorities.
The usual bullshit.
Dante immediately pulled every string available to him to delay the police response.
Not forever, of course. Just long enough to get us there first and examine the scene before the evidence disappeared behind bureaucracy, media narratives, official reports, and whatever else was lurking around.
I still remember stepping out of the vehicle wearing full combat gear.
Armoured vest. Ballistic plates. Spare magazines. Sidearm. Rifle slung across my chest. Medical kit. Comms.
The complete opposite of the civilian outfits I'd been wearing so far.
Mister arrived beside me while Shock followed close behind. Tetra and Remi came too, although Dante only agreed to let Remi tag along after nearly ten minutes of arguing.
"If he gets in the way, he's leaving." Those were Dante's exact words.
For once, Remi actually agreed.
When we arrived, it didn't take long to realize how bad the attack had been.
Broken glass littered the street. Several vehicles had been damaged during the ambush, and spent casings were scattered across the pavement alongside pools of drying blood. Whoever carried it out knew exactly what they were doing.
The entire thing felt professional, executed with frightening efficiency.
Whoever carried it out knew exactly where the vehicle would be, how long the window would last, and how much force was needed to guarantee the outcome.
The car itself had been torn apart by gunfire and explosives, its frame twisted and blackened from the blast. Blood stained the pavement around it, and the damage was severe enough that there was no real question about whether the occupants had survived.
What stood out to me wasn't the brutality itself. In my years working, I'd unfortunately seen worse. Hell, even the Melder kids had been more unnerving to me.
The entire scene looked less like an ambush and more like a warning.
One of Dante's people had died there. Not just another soldier or contact, but someone he actually knew. Someone he trusted. Someone he considered a friend.
Of course, in typical fashion, the man never even made it to the meeting.
I remember Dante standing over the body for a long moment without saying anything. He simply stared down at his friend before quietly speaking a few words in Italian.
"Riposa in pace." His voice remained calm as he bowed his head slightly. "Nel nome del Padre, del Figlio e dello Spirito Santo."
He made the sign of the cross before falling silent once more.
I didn't understand every word, but I understood more than enough.
Shock looked just as grim. There were no jokes, no teasing remarks, and no streamer persona trying to lighten the mood.
She simply stood there in silence, her expression hard and her jaw set tight with quiet anger.
By that point, all of us already knew the situation was escalating.
Contacts were disappearing. Networks were being breached. Underbosses were going silent. Mercenaries were leaving Italy. And now one of Dante's trusted informants was dead before an important meeting.
The attack felt less like an assassination and more like a message.
Someone wanted Dante to know they could reach him.
Of course, there were plenty of eyes on him already, and even more people who wanted him nervous before the gala.
The problem was that it was working.
Not because Dante was scared, but because none of it made sense to us.
He had spent days investigating underbosses and rivals to his position with Shock and Mister while the rest of us looked into the situation from the outside. Every lead seemed to point to the same conclusion.
Either there was no news at all, or everything was calm and quiet.
And yet everything was happening at once.
Contacts were disappearing. Networks were being breached. Mercenaries were leaving Italy. Rival factions were moving. Every group seemed to be repositioning at the same time, even though none of the intelligence we gathered fully explained why.
Despite all the theories, all the information, and all the preparation, nobody actually knew what was happening.
I shake my head, forcing myself back into the present as I stare down at the nearly finished gala venue.
Workers continue moving below while lights flicker on one by one across the avenue. The warm glow slowly spreads through the streets as Rome transitions toward evening.
Tomorrow. Everything points toward tomorrow.
Below me, a conversation continues.
"Don't forget that Wissen will also be helping us," Dante adds. "Although his assistance will be more so behind the scenes."
Mister nods once.
"I have factored Wissen into my calculations as well. However, his mind always seems to be ten steps ahead of my own. I believe we can trust him to operate independently."
Then Shock walks by, fake muttering to herself while remaining just within earshot of Mister and Dante.
"Yeah. Like that's hard to do."
Mister immediately turns toward her.
"Did you have anything of use or importance to say, Shock?" he asks. "I'm sure everyone here would be delighted to hear whatever comes out of your mouth."
The sudden shift in attitude catches me off guard.
Shock looks surprised too, though she quickly recovers into a grin—one that makes me wonder if she's trying to ease the tension or, for some reason, rub Mister's frustration in even further.
"Wow. Touchy much?" She backs away with both hands raised in exaggerated surrender. "You walked right into that one, girl. Looks like somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed if they can't handle a little joke."
Her grin widens.
"If that's enough to get under your skin, what does that say about your temper?"
"It means," Mister says evenly, "that I would prefer if my colleagues took matters seriously instead of undermining my own proficiency. If you think—"
Then he stops himself mid-sentence.
His pause lasts just long enough for everyone nearby—including me—to notice. He straightens slightly and clears his throat.
"It appears I lost myself for a moment."
Shock blinks, and so do I.
Hell, even Dante looks mildly surprised.
Mister inclines his head.
"Thank you, Shock, for bringing my temper to my attention. If you believe I possess any other flaws requiring correction, I invite you to inform me. For now, however, I believe it would be more productive to focus on the task at hand."
The silence that follows feels strange.
Mostly because Mister has been getting increasingly annoyed with Shock lately, but I suppose having to limp around because of Azure is still fresh on him both physically and mentally. It probably doesn't help with stress.
I look down at Shock, carefully observing her behavior. It doesn't seem like she has a comeback ready for that.
Tetra slides over to them, becoming the first one to say what I'm thinking.
"…That was kind of out of character."
"Leave it," Dante immediately answers. "We're nearing the gala."
Tetra frowns. "I don't know. With respect—"
"Leave it."
The firmness in Dante's voice makes Tetra stop.
Tetra folds his arms. "I disagree," he says, his tone remaining respectful. "But... alright."
Dante gives a single nod. "Thank you."
Neither he nor Mister elaborates further. Instead, they split off toward different parts of the venue, leaving only Tetra and Shock behind.
The two exchange a brief glance.
Tetra gives a small shake of his head.
Shock responds with a dismissive shrug.
Damn. It feels like everyone is feeling it.
I've spent enough time around this team to recognise when something's wrong, and in little ways or big ones, the stress of the gala—and the mystery surrounding whatever is coming—has been eating away at everyone.
Everyone except Wissen. He still seems poised, calm, and almost completely in control of the situation.
I haven't actually had a chance to sit down and talk with him recently, but I lean toward believing that he's genuinely confident despite everything.
I should probably talk to him later.
Assuming he's confident because he's in control, that's great. I'm paid to shoot people, not resolve international crime politics.
But if even he's faking it? I'd honestly rather not know and continue operating in blissful ignorance.
Whatever the reason, nobody seems particularly interested in venting or expressing how they're feeling right now.
The closest exceptions are Tetra and Remi, who I've spent a few late nights talking with over the last few nights.
Mister keeps to himself.
Shock and I haven't had much time to talk either with how much she's been working alongside Dante.
At least for now, I saw no reason to bring it up. So I let it go.
Far ahead of me, the lights continue turning on across the avenue while workers rush to finish the last preparations.
Tomorrow is coming whether we're ready or not.
"Enjoying the view up there?"
I look down again.
Tetra's looking up at me from below, one hand resting on a nearby railing.
A faint smile pulls at the corner of my mouth. "It's alright."
"Just alright?" He laughs. "No one to gun down?"
"It's a nice place to shoot someone from."
"Uh huh. Who did you have in mind?"
"Hmmm... no one yet. Why? Wanna be my first?"
"I'll pass." Tetra laughs, waving a hand dismissively. "Surprised you even got that far at the gala of all places."
"What?" I shrug, a little too smug. "You asked."
That earns another laugh out of him.
Nearby, Shock catches us looking and gives an exaggerated little wave before immediately wandering off toward another cluster of gala security staff.
She'll probably end up harassing some poor technician later.
"Off she goes, I guess," Tetra says.
"Yep. Off to do her 'netrunner things.'"
We both watch as Shock starts talking to one of the security specialists.
Within thirty seconds, she's already pointing at something on a tablet while the guy looks mildly concerned.
Tetra shakes his head. "I get why everyone's tense."
"No kidding."
My gaze drifts toward a nearby street corner where two of Dante's bodyguards stand pretending not to watch the crowd.
Understandably, they're alert. Especially after the attack last night.
Tetra follows my line of sight. "Can't blame them."
"Nope." I shake my head. "Neither can I."
For a few seconds, we just watch the venue together.
Then Tetra speaks again. "What's going on with Shock and Mister?"
I raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"He's been getting annoyed more often lately."
Hm… he's right.
I glance over again at Shock as she connects herself to one of the venue cameras.
She keeps helping with the investigation, but she's also been challenging Mister almost every chance she gets lately. Every decision and judgement call he makes gets questioned in some way. Hell, maybe even his assumptions too.
At first, it seemed like Shock was stressed, but even that only justifies so much before things start becoming uncertain.
Now? I can't even say with certainty that it's "just stress."
"I don't know," I admit. "You raise a valid point."
Tetra frowns. "Seems excessive."
"Yeah."
If I'm being honest, she's kind of being a bitch. Not constantly, of course. Not enough to start any kind of fight. But enough that all of us have noticed.
Then again, I'm hardly the authority on healthy communication...
The thought immediately drags up memories I'd rather leave buried.
Azure. The argument we had. The things left unsaid that still linger as regret and "what ifs". The uncertainty afterward about what happens now—for her and for us.
Jenny is still out there too. Is she watching us? Or is she just doing her own thing back in Vancouver?
I shut the thought down before it can go any further. There's no point thinking about it right now when the gala is tomorrow.
Tetra notices my expression shift. "You alright?"
"Yeah." The answer comes a little too quickly.
He raises a brow at me, but thankfully lets it go.
Instead, he glances toward the far end of the venue where Wissen and Mister are speaking with several event organizers.
"At least Wissen seems happy."
I follow his gaze.
Yeah… Wissen genuinely does look pleased. Relaxed, even. Which is kind of weird considering everything happening around us.
"Yeah?" A slight smile tugs at my lips. "Was there anything specific you noticed?"
"Nothing too crazy, I think." Tetra nods toward the two fixers. "It's just that every time Mister pulls something off or wriggles out of Shock's questioning, Wissen looks like a proud parent watching their kid graduate."
I snort. "That's terrifyingly accurate."
"Right?"
We watch for another moment.
Mister is speaking with one of the logistics coordinators.
Wissen isn't saying much. Instead, he just observes. Occasionally offering Mister advice. Occasionally correcting something. But mostly letting Mister work.
"Think he's still evaluating him?" Tetra asks.
"Definitely."
"Think Mister knows?"
"Also definitely."
That earns another quiet laugh.
Below us, workers continue moving equipment into position while more lights illuminate the avenue.
Then something feels wrong.
I can't fully explain it immediately.
It's not an obvious tell. Not a specific sound or smell setting off immediate alarm bells.
No.
My eyes continue scanning the venue, shifting from workers to security, technicians, and event staff.
Nothing. Everything looks normal.
For a few seconds, I convince myself I'm imagining it.
It's the same feeling I've had whenever danger is lurking around the corner. Those occasional moments of heightened awareness where some part of me recognizes a threat before my brain catches up. It's happened plenty of times throughout my career, usually with more obvious tells attached to it.
So I focus on the feeling instead, letting my senses work without distraction.
Then I spot it.
My eyes narrow, locking onto a white utility van parked near one of the service entrances to the building—one of the areas expected to handle a significant amount of guest traffic during the gala.
The vehicle itself isn't strange. In fact, it's the exact opposite.
Ordinary in every possible way.
My gaze lingers on it. "Hm."
Tetra notices immediately. "What?"
I don't answer right away. Instead, I continue watching.
Years of experience have taught me that the job isn't just about identifying immediate threats. It's about recognizing patterns. Learning which ones matter, which ones don't, and which ones feel wrong even when you can't fully explain why.
And right now?
Even if I can't pinpoint the reason, the pattern feels off.
Was that van always there? No. I'd remember it if it had been sitting there the entire time.
This is new. How new? I can't tell.
I can't make out who's inside, and I never saw anyone arrive.
Even if we assume it's legitimate staff, it's weird that nothing is moving in or out of it.
No doors are open. No equipment is being unloaded. Nobody is approaching it.
From where it's parked, the occupants have a clean view into parts of the venue, and most people wouldn't give it a second glance.
"That van," I finally say.
Tetra follows my gaze. "The white one?"
"Yeah."
He studies it for a moment. "Looks normal."
"Exactly."
That earns a frown from him.
I push off the railing. Something about it bothers me.
Maybe it's the positioning, the timing, or simply the fact that I don't remember seeing it there earlier. Sure, I might have missed it while talking—I won't pretend I'm immune to blind spots.
Still, I don't think I'm overthinking this.
"Tetra." I keep staring at the van.
"Yeah?"
"Get Dante."
His expression hardens immediately. "You serious?"
"Humour me."
He doesn't argue. Instead, he turns and heads off toward Dante.
Meanwhile, I keep watching.
The driver doesn't get out. I don't see them using a phone either.
The driver never gets out. No phone screen lights the interior either. Even from this distance, I'd expect to catch some glow if they were scrolling or texting.
Nothing.
No conversation. No movement.
They're just watching.
A few moments later, Tetra returns with Dante and Mister.
"What is it?" Dante asks.
I point toward the street below. "The van outside."
Dante studies it, his expression unchanging. "Do you know who it belongs to?"
"No."
"Is it part of venue logistics?"
"I don't know."
Mister tilts his head slightly. "You believe it's suspicious?"
"I believe it shouldn't be there."
That alone is enough for Dante. He immediately motions toward two of his bodyguards, and the pair begin moving toward the vehicle.
A few seconds later, Shock's voice crackles through the team channel.
"Uh... y'all..."
Every instinct in my body immediately tightens.
"What?" I ask, pressing a finger lightly against the comms piece in my ear. "What do you see?"
There's a pause. An annoyingly long stretch of silence.
"Okay. That's weird," Shock finally says.
"Shock." My stomach sinks. "Spit it out."
"I just checked the venue manifests. And... that van isn't registered."
Nobody says anything. Not me. Not Tetra. Not Mister. Not even Dante.
My eyes snap back outside just in time to see one of the bodyguards reach the driver's side door.
He knocks. No response.
A second later, he opens it.
Empty. The driver is gone.
"Seriously?" Remi blurts out from somewhere below us. "What's going on, chooms?"
"Hold on," Shock says.
The sound of rapid typing fills the comms. A few seconds later, she mutters a curse under her breath.
That's… not a good sign.
"What?" Dante asks.
"There was a transmitter."
"Elaborate."
"I'm picking up an unauthorized signal originating from the van."
My stomach drops.
"Can you shut it down?" Mister asks.
"Already did." More of Shock's typing follows. "Whatever it was sending, it isn't transmitting anymore."
"Sending what?" Tetra asks.
Shock doesn't answer immediately.
The silence stretches for several seconds.
Then she exhales.
"It wasn't attacking anything."
"Then what was it doing?" Dante asks.
"Collecting information. It's been cataloguing the wireless infrastructure around the venue. Security access points. Cameras. Staff devices. Anything broadcasting a signal."
My gaze drifts back toward the crowd below. Most of them have no idea what's happening.
Regular citizens. Contractors. Event staff. Even some of Dante's people.
Life continues as normal while the rest of us try to figure out who's watching.
"Can you trace it?" Mister asks.
"I already tried." Shock sighs. "The transmission was bouncing through multiple relays. And believe me, even with good hardware, it'd take the better part of a day to track it."
Dante shakes his head, fists clenched at his sides.
"Remove it." He spits out a curse in Italian. "Now."
"Already on it. I'll let the guards know."
A moment later, one of the bodyguards crouches beside the van and carefully retrieves a small device mounted underneath the chassis while another begins clearing the immediate area.
The rest of us simply watch as the guards secure the van.
Nothing else is found.
No explosives. No weapons. Not even fingerprints worth tracking.
"For fuck's sake." I shake my head. "Even their exit was clean."
I lean against the railing, watching the sun continue to sink behind Rome's skyline.
Tomorrow. Everything's going to come crashing together, won't it?
My gaze drifts toward the people below.
Workers pack up for the evening. Security teams rotate shifts. The venue gradually settles into its overnight posture. Nearby, the rest of us compare notes, confirm plans, and discuss any last-minute changes.
I look toward Dante.
He already knows, and the others do too.
At this point, there isn't enough time left to chase every lead, uncover every secret, or understand why so many factions in Italy suddenly seem to be moving at once.
We're out of time.
I glance back toward the avenue one last time.
The gala lights glow against the evening sky—beautiful, expensive, and increasingly more dangerous by the minute.
Tomorrow, we'll find out whether all of this paranoia was justified or whether something much worse has been waiting for us all along.
Either way, nobody is getting much sleep tonight.
Damn it.