Page 102 of Double Trouble for the Mafia Prince
Just...witnessing.
"This shouldn’t exist," I say, voice low. "That clearance was terminated years ago."
"It wasn’t reactivated," Luca replies.
He moves from behind the desk and sets another page beside the first. "It was copied. Pulled from an archived shell database wefound under the Rossi system. One of the few you had access to before you left."
I meet his gaze.
He’s not challenging me, not exactly.
But the timing.
The setup.
It’s deliberate.
"I didn’t—" I start, but stop.
The protest feels limp in my mouth.
Valentina pushes forward a new sheet.
This one shows the routing paths.
Naples.
The southern coast.
Then inland—two hours outside Nuova Speranza.
My breath catches.
The logistics center flagged in red doesn't belong to us.
It doesn’t belong to anyone officially.
But someone’s using it now.
Valentina taps the corner of the sheet.
"We flagged it three days ago. Anonymous purchase trail, scrubbed digital footprint. No visible affiliations. But the movement data matched something we’ve started tracking in the city."
She turns the page.
Three letters marked in crisp, unforgiving red:ISN.
I frown. "What is that?"
Luca’s voice is quieter now.
"We’ve just started hearing the name in closed circles. It’s not a crew, not in the usual sense. More like a faction. No official structure. No clear leadership. Just...hits. Strategic, targeted, and unclaimed."
He pauses, then says the words like they taste foreign. "Il Sangue Nero."
The Black Blood.
I sit in silence.
