The storm had not eased by dawn. Rain hammered against the windows of the safehouse, turning the city beyond into a blur of gray and silver. Inside, the air was thick with tension and the faint scent of gunpowder. Damian stood before the map spread across the table, his shirt sleeves rolled up, blood drying along his jawline.
Luca entered quietly, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. "You haven't slept."
"Neither have they," Damian replied, eyes fixed on the red pins marking The Circle's known locations. "They wanted me alive last night. If they'd wanted me dead, I wouldn't be standing here."
Luca set the cup down. "Then what was the point?"
"To send a message." Damian's voice was low, deliberate. "They wanted me to know they're watching. That they're not finished with my family."
He traced a finger along the map, stopping at the port district. "The man in the crimson mask—he knew things about my father no outsider should. That means someone close to us is feeding them information."
Luca's jaw tightened. "You think it's one of ours?"
"I think betrayal runs in bloodlines," Damian said. "And The Circle knows exactly where to cut."
The door creaked open. Matteo stepped inside, his wrists still marked from the restraints Damian had ordered days earlier. His expression was guarded, but his eyes burned with something between guilt and defiance.
"You wanted to see me," Matteo said.
Damian turned slowly. "You were part of them once. You know how they move, how they think. Tell me what last night was."
Matteo hesitated. "A warning. The Circle doesn't act without purpose. If they revealed themselves, it's because they're ready to take back what they lost."
"And what did they lose?"
"Control," Matteo said. "Your father broke their chain when he built his empire. They've been waiting for a chance to rebuild it—through you, or over your corpse."
Luca stepped forward. "Then why help us now?"
Matteo's gaze flicked to Damian. "Because I know what they'll do next. And because I owe your father more than I owe them."
Damian studied him for a long moment, searching for truth in his words. "You'll stay here until I decide what to do with you."
Matteo's lips curved into a faint, bitter smile. "You can lock me up, Damian, but you can't stop what's coming."
When he was gone, Luca exhaled sharply. "You trust him?"
"No," Damian said. "But I need him."
He turned back to the map, eyes narrowing on a cluster of pins near the southern docks. "They're moving shipments through Naples again. That's where we start."
Luca nodded. "I'll assemble a team."
"Not yet," Damian said. "We move quietly. No noise, no blood until I say so. The Circle thrives on chaos. We'll give them silence instead."
Thunder rolled outside, shaking the windows. Damian looked toward the rain‑streaked glass, his reflection fractured by the storm.
"They think they can haunt me with ghosts," he murmured. "But ghosts don't scare me. I was raised by one."
Luca watched him in silence, understanding the weight behind the words. The Circle had declared war, but Damian Moretti was already a man built for it.
As the first light of morning broke through the clouds, he reached for his coat. "We end this where it began," he said. "At the docks."
The Circle had made its move. Now it was Damian's turn.