(Alessandro’s POV) The unmarked black SUV moved like a shadow through the damp, empty roads leading to JFK’s cargo terminals, so the usual loud chaos of New York was muffled by the late hour and the thick, wet air. I sat in the back, the pistol heavy against my hip, feeling the raw, aggressive energy of the city pressing in on us, and I knew that every shadow held a potential threat, every parked truck could hide one of Bianchi’s men. “Five minutes until touchdown, Alessandro, and Dante’s team is in position, dressed as airport security, so they blend in well,” Lucian's voice reported over the secure satellite line, and his tension was clear even across the hundreds of miles. “The plane is being diverted to Cargo Bay Four, which is isolated, perfect for a clean snatch-and-grab, but we need to move the second the ramp drops.” “Tell Dante to disable the cameras immediately, Lucian, and I want zero violence, because she is a civilian, and any blood spilled, even Bianchi’s men’s,
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