Luca’s POVThe decision to leave the atoll after forty-three years felt like pulling roots from soil that had grown thick around them. We packed light—old habits from lives once lived on the run. Weapons in concealed cases, false papers in hidden compartments, encrypted drives with Anya’s clinic coordinates and emergency contacts. The twins—sixteen now—stood on the dock as we boarded the chartered seaplane, Leo’s jaw set, Kai’s eyes wide but steady.“Bring back stories,” Leo said—voice trying for bravado.Kai hugged me last—arms tight. “Come back whole, Papa Luca.”Anya and Mara waited on the plane—Anya’s face pale but determined. “Elena’s signal pinged in Lagos three days ago. Small outbreak—targeted. Old Bratva safehouse district. She’s there. And she’s waiting.”The flight south took twenty-two hours—refueling in Dubai, then straight to Lagos executive strip. The city hit us like a memory: humid air thick with diesel and dust, skyline jagged against haze, the same chaotic energy th
Dernière mise à jour : 2026-03-01 Read More