The Sister's ArrestMaria Russo lived in a modest apartment on Milan's north side—third floor walk up, faded shutters, the kind of building where neighbours minded their business. Inspector Rossi stood on the street below, watching the windows, two unmarked cars idling behind him."She's home," one of his officers said, checking his phone. "Lights on. No movement in the last ten minutes."Rossi nodded. "No sirens. We go in quiet. She's Russo's sister, not a soldier. But she's smart enough to run if she hears us coming."They climbed the stairs, boots soft on worn carpet. At the third floor, Rossi raised his fist—stop. He listened. Inside, a television murmured. Water running. Normal sounds.He knocked. "Maria Russo. Police. Open the door."Silence. The television went quiet."Ms. Russo, we have a warrant. Open the door, or we break it down."Footsteps approached. The lock clicked. The door opened a crack, chain still attached. Maria's face appeared—late forties, dark hair pulled back,
آخر تحديث : 2025-12-19 اقرأ المزيد