Milan — Stifling early morning
The sound of church bells echoed through the thick mist.
Luca and Vera moved through side streets, avoiding lights, avoiding faces. Every step felt like dragging iron chains.
Inside Luca's coat was the real prize:
The complete dossier.
Photos. Testimonies. Reports. Proof of bribes, sabotage, commissioned deaths.
Everything that could bring down powerful names — if it reached the right hands.
And they had a plan.
Giulio Moretti, a public prosecutor in Milan, was infamous for his nearly suicidal stubbornness against corruption. He had never been bought. Never been intimidated. Some said he wouldn't live much longer. Others whispered he had already made peace with his own death sentence.
He was Luca and Vera's last chance.
They knew: if they delivered the evidence to Moretti and he chose to act, the case would explode beyond the streets.
But they also knew: they had to reach him alive.
They crossed an empty intersection. Vera glanced both ways and yanked Luca behind an abandoned newsstand.
"There," she whispered.
Across the street, two black cars sat idling. Men smoked near the doors. Waiting. Watching.
"We're surrounded," Luca muttered.
It wasn't just the mafia anymore.
Now it was the police too.
There was no way back.
Only forward.
Vera gripped Luca's arm. Her eyes were pure steel.
"We didn't come this far to die afraid," she said.
Luca gave a grim smile.
"Then we'll die trying."
They ran.
The final move had been made.
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