Chapter 8: Res echoes from the past

Dante walked the entire safehouse, his strain causing the floor to creak. Enzo's words had hardly settled when ideas started to shape his mind, calculations and backups entwined like threads in a complex network. The gnawing sensation that this fight would cost him more than he was ready to admit would not be eliminated even with the most exact arrangements, though.

Elena watched him with the intensity that caused the space between them to crackle from her seated at the old wooden table. Unspoken worries permeated the air, each second marking the approaching storm like a drumbeat. Though the words caught in her throat, she wanted to say anything, anything, to shatter the stillness.

Enzo came back, his face a mask of tiredness and will. "The men are positioned correctly. Although we strengthened the exits, we still need more eyes around the periphery.

Dante nodded, peering at the map laid across the table. It was a patchwork of defended areas, defined paths, and escape routes. There we