LOGINAurora’s POVHospitals smelled the same no matter where you were. That sterile bite of bleach and latex gloves, the soft hum of fluorescent lights overhead, the faint tang of coffee left too long in the machine. They smelled like endings and beginnings, and I hated them for it.The corridor was hushed when I pushed open the door to their room. It was too white inside, too clean, the kind of room that pretended it could erase the dirt of blood and bullets with fresh sheets and antiseptic wipes.Nestore lay closest to the window, skin pale against the hospital gown. Machines whispered beside him, steady but fragile, as though every beep was borrowed from someone else’s clock. Nevio was on the other bed, chest wrapped tight, IV lines like threads binding him to this place. He looked worse in some ways — awake, jaw clenched, eyes red, as though consciousness itself was punishment.I paused in the doorway, fingers tight on the handle. My father’s shadow was still on me, heavy as a chain. H
Aurora’s POVHe nodded and turned the trawler, the motor whining as the bow cut the dark like a fingernail. The river’s current wanted to drag us sideways, but Paolo cursed and leaned with the handle like a man who would not be bested by the water. The girls huddled in the middle of the boat, silent, their faces pale with a kind of stunned gratitude that felt like a paper bandage over something far deeper.Nestore’s breath came ragged. He tried to speak, but the words tangled. I felt the boat dip like a sigh as it nosed into the slip and Marco killed the motor. The quiet that followed was too loud — the world holding its breath with us.“Help me,” I said to Paolo, voice a knife. He didn’t answer because he had his own hands full keeping himself from fainting. So I called on whatever I had learned on nights of scrapes and emergency; I tore the shirts free from Nestore’s chest, pressed on a wound that was an ugly, honest ruin. Warmth soaked my palms and the smell of iron filled my nose.
Nestore's POV Needing to be needed is a dangerous grace. It made me push off the ground, the pain a bell in my ribs. Nevio dragged the nearest man’s gun away with a sharp twist and fired down the line of the compound like a man with nothing left to prove. Marco and Paolo were already fighting at the water’s edge, pulling girls into the boat. A woman with a bruise down her temple crawled into Aurora’s arms and clung to her like a lifeline.We staggered, limping and moving because there was no time to be noble. A trash can erupted in a spray of flame as a stray round hit a can of petrol; the night flickered orange and the smell of burning rubber kissed the air. Someone behind us cursed and then screamed. Rocco, who had been on rounds, was shouting into a radio that now screeched back to life—somebody had a backup power source.“Move faster!” I shouted. “Get them to the boat!”Sergio sprinted beside me, face pale with the engine of fear. “The breaker will come back online in three minut
Nestore's POV We ran.The path narrowed into a tunnel of palms and plastic tarps, and every shadow looked like a man. Boots came at us from both sides, and then suddenly the night was full of noise—the sound of boots, the bark of a guard’s curse, the staccato rattle of a weapon pulled from a holster. The ten minutes we’d trusted like a promise snapped into something brittle and dangerous.“Down!” I snarled, and we hit the earth hard. Dirt and grit stung my palms. A flashlight swung over us, slicing the dark, and a shout answered it—“Intruders!”Sergio cursed under his breath; he’d miscounted a patrol. Rocco was on his rounds early. The island was waking up.“Move,” I hissed. “Aurora, with me. Nevio, cover—Marco, Paolo, take the rear. Get the girls.”He didn’t need the order twice. Nevio already had his pistol out, face blank in that animal way he takes on when the world is only geometry and threat. He moved like a man with a hole in his ribs that was not visible—fast, silent, and abs
Nestore’s POVThe river smelled like blood and danger, the kind of smell that sat on the back of your tongue and reminded you of everything you’d ever been willing to lose. We rode the trawler low and quiet, three shadowed figures against the hum of a diesel engine and the soft slap of water. Marco kept his face in the boat’s fold, eyes on the shoreline. Paolo checked the ropes again, though they’d been checked twice already. Aurora sat between Nevio and me, small and taut as a wire. She hadn’t spoken in hours; her jaw was set like something brittle. Every so often she’d close her fists and let them relax. I watched the motion because it told me what words did not...she was ready.We’d gone over the plan until the words had become muscle memory. Sergio — Draci’s man — would be at the harbor master’s office at dusk, his card tucked inside the ledger like a secret. He’d slip the key signal and a lantern placed in the office window, an old code that meant the generator would be cut for
Nestore’s POVAurora’s words hung in the room like smoke, heavy, suffocating, impossible to ignore.“An insider,” Nevio repeated slowly, his jaw tightening as if the thought alone irritated him. “That’s easier said than done. You don’t just walk into a place like that and convince someone to betray their masters.”Draci crossed his arms, his gaze flickering between us. “I might know someone. But it’s a risk—more than a risk. It’s suicide.”“Who?” I pressed.He shook his head, reluctant. “A man named Salvatore. He was part of the trafficking ring years ago, one of their lower members. He’s been… disillusioned. Kept around only to maintain the current systems—the power, the alarms, the water.” His eyes narrowed on Aurora. “But he won’t do it for you. Not unless you give him a reason.”Aurora leaned forward in her chair, the fire in her eyes both dangerous and mesmerizing. “Then we’ll give him one. If he hates them enough to turn against them, we’ll be the match that lights it.”Draci ga
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