At Dante’s Office,

Marco entered without knocking, tension clinging to his movements. Dante stood at the window, his back turned, watching the tree line like he could see through the shadows.

“She made her move.”

Dante didn’t turn.

“Who?”

“Bianca. She’s got a man posted less than two blocks out. Rotating shifts. Watching the house.”

Dante finally turned, jaw tight.

“How long?”

“Long enough. We only just confirmed it. Guy’s clean. No direct ties to her, but he ...