His Trophy His War
“Let them come for me. It’ll make killing them cleaner.”
At the safehouse, Clara typed furiously, the glow of her laptop flickering across her pale face.
Headline draft: The Night Milan Burned — Who Profits from Fear?
She hesitated, fingers trembling. For the first time, she wasn’t sure if she was reporting history or standing inside it.
Back at the wrecked docks, Livia watched the embers fall like red snow. Alessandro stood beside her, silent. The night smelled of smoke and vengeance.
She whispered, mostly to herself, “He thinks this ends in flames.”