The private jet soared through the clouds, heading toward the Amalfi Coast, where Dante Marchesi had been hiding in plain sight.
Ariella sat in a leather seat, one leg crossed over the other, her eyes fixed on the map laid out on the table. The compound—Marchesi's stronghold—sat on a cliff, an opulent estate surrounded by armed guards and vast waters below.
An ideal fortress.
But Ariella wasn't planning to sneak in.
She intended to walk right through the front door.
Leo, sitting across from her, examined the blueprint. "This isn't just a safe house. He's expanding."
Carter sighed. "That means he was aware the Order was falling apart before we finished them off."
Vincent grinned, spinning his knife in his fingers. "Looks like someone's been waiting for his chance at power."
Ariella's jaw clenched. "Then we can't let him have that chance."
Leo looked her in the eye. "Are you sure about this? Going into his home without weapons?"
