Milan — Temporary refuge
Hours after the escape, Vera and Luca were hidden in a small abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city.
The air smelled of dust and rust, but to them, it was like breathing freedom.
Spread across an old table were the documents they had salvaged.
Signed contracts.
Orders for bribes.
Secret banking records.
Photographs of clandestine meetings between racing team owners, politicians, and mafia bosses.
It was more than they had hoped for.
It was the entire system's downfall, recorded on paper.
Enzo appeared at the door, breathless.
— We have the right contacts ready — he said. — Independent journalists. Underground printers. They're all waiting.
Vera nodded.
— We'll publish everything, — she said, with deadly calm.
Luca smiled.
— And when the city knows...
Vera finished, her eyes on the documents:
— There'll be no safe place left for them.
It was the next step.
It wasn't enough to win in the alleys and squares.
They needed to win the narrative, to rip the control of the truth from the hands of the corrupt.
And Vera knew:
with these proofs, the once-silenced voices would become a chorus impossible to silence.