POV: Lena Moretti She showed up on a Thursday evening. No call. No warning. Just Gianna standing on the brownstone's front steps looking like she hadn't slept in days, pressing the buzzer with the nervous energy of someone who wasn't sure they'd be let inside and was prepared to stand there until the decision was made for them. Naomi flagged her on the security feed before I saw her. "Your stepsister is at the front door. She's alone. No phone visible. No vehicle parked nearby. She walked here." Naomi paused. "She didn't track you. She tracked me. Followed me from a coffee shop this morning. She's been tailing me for two days." Smart. Gianna couldn't find the brownstone by searching for me because the location was buried under layers of corporate obfuscation. But Naomi moved through the city every day, meeting contacts, coordinating security, running the operational logistics of the takedown. Following Naomi meant finding the hub. Gianna had stopped trying to track the hidden woman
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