Chapter 28. The Meeting

The drive took most of the night.

Neither Ezio nor Dario spoke much as the city lights bled into the distance, swallowed by the darkness of the industrial outskirts. The instructions had been clear—arrive before dawn, no escorts, no weapons beyond what they could conceal.

By the time they reached the address, the air smelled faintly of sea salt and rust. An abandoned warehouse loomed by the docks, its metal siding streaked with rain and time.

Two black cars waited near the entrance. A group of men stepped out as Ezio and Dario approached. Their movements were quiet, professional—not the kind of muscle Benedetti would send.

One of them stepped forward.

“Signor Moroni,” he said, his voice low, steady. “I’m Antonio Tirelli.”

Ezio recognized the voice immediately—the same one that had answered his call that morning.

Antonio gestured to one of the waiting cars. “We’ll continue from here. Can’t risk being followed.”

Dario’s hand brushed his