Morning arrived without ceremony.
The sun rose pale and distant, its light filtered through layers of cloud that refused to lift. Palermo looked ordinary from the outside. Traffic moved. Vendors opened their stalls. People laughed in cafés. None of them knew how close the city had come to something ancient waking fully beneath its streets.
Inside the DeLuca compound, nothing felt ordinary.
The night had left its mark. Cracked walls were being reinforced. Windows replaced. Sensors recalibrated. Guards rotated in tighter shifts. Every shadow was treated as a potential threat.
Aria watched it all from the terrace, wrapped in a soft shawl, her hands resting over her stomach. The baby moved gently, no longer restless, but alert. As if listening.
Luca stood beside her, phone pressed to his ear, issuing orders with calm authority. His voice carried no trace of the fear that had shaken him hours earlier, but Aria could feel the tension in his body through the bond they shared.
