POV: Dante
The confirmation comes at midnight.
An encrypted message was sent from Luca's private office terminal to a number that doesn't exist in any of my systems. Whoever set up that receiving number knew exactly how to hide it layered proxies, rotating servers, the kind of technical work that costs real money and takes real time.
Someone planned this carefully.
Someone has been planning this for a long time.
I sit at my desk and look at the confirmation on my screen, and I don't move for one full hour.
I know because I watch the clock. 12:04 to 1:04. Sixty minutes of sitting completely still while something inside me goes through every stage of a thing I don't have a name for.
It's no surprise. I stopped being surprised when the Genoa alert came through yesterday.
It's not rage. Rage is loud, and I am not loud right now. I am the opposite of loud. I am so quiet inside that I can hear my own breathing.
