The safehouse was a tomb of silence, punctuated only by Sophia’s hiccupping sobs and the low buzz of the news. Eva rocked the baby into a fitful sleep, body trembling from adrenaline and a grief that weighed like stone. Behind a closed door, Alessandro paced—a contained storm: wounded, furious, betrayed.

Lyra and Jeremy moved like shadows, their banter gone. Jeremy reinforced the doorframe, knuckles white on his screwdriver. Lyra sat at her console, fingers a frantic blur as she tried to ...