Chapter 60 - The Silent Threat
I pressed my thumb against the tablet’s sensor, validating the emergency Codicil override.
The screen flared brilliant amber:
*INTERNATIONAL SEIZURE PROTOCOL TRANSMITTED. MALPENSA CONTROL TOWER NOTIFIED. INTERCEPTION SQUADRONS SCRAMBLED.*
Across the courtyard, the roar of luxury armored SUVs echoed as Vincent’s elite convoy lined up at the front gates. The iron gates swung open with a screech of heavy gears, revealing the dark, winding mountain road that led down toward the runway lights of Malpensa.
"Salvatore, take Antonio and throw him into the deepest vault we have," Vincent ordered, slipping behind the wheel of the lead armored vehicle. "Nobody speaks to him. Nobody feeds him until I return."
I climbed into the passenger seat without hesitation, the guard's weapon resting securely in my lap. I wasn't the terrified woman who had boarded a flight in Rome five years ago with a stolen baby and a false passport. I was Maya’s mother, and I would rip the sky apart to get her back.
Vincent slammed his foot onto the accelerator. The convoy tore through the gates, tires smoking against the asphalt as we barreled into the night.
Beside me, the tactical tablet pinged. A high-priority satellite feed patched through, displaying the Malpensa runway.
On the screen, a sleek black Gulfstream was taxiing toward the main strip, its navigation lights blinking against the foggy tarmac. But before it could turn into the wind, three military transport trucks smashed through the perimeter fence, boxing the aircraft onto the taxiway.
"They're cut off," I whispered, my heart leaping into my throat. "They can't take off!"
"We have them," Vincent said, his knuckles white on the steering wheel as the speedometer climbed past a hundred miles per hour.
Then, the tablet screen flickered violently.
The satellite feed vanished, replaced by a cold, automated prompt from an unknown server in Milan.
A biometric matching notification popped up, blinking in bright, crimson letters:
*UNAUTHORIZED BIOMETRIC ACCESS DETECTED: TERMINAL 09 — MILAN CENTRAL.*
*USER IDENTIFIED: CESARE MORETTI.*
*STATUS: OVERRIDE ACCEPTED. SEIZURE PROTOCOL CANCELLED.*
Vincent glanced sideways at the screen, his face draining of all color, the car swerving slightly as his grip froze on the wheel.
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Cesare Moretti was dead. He had been buried in the family crypt twenty-five years ago.
Yet the computer system had just accepted his living pulse to clear the path for Maya’s flight.
