The forest was not kind to liars.....
Enzo stumbled through the underbrush, the sharp bite of thorny vines dragging across his skin, blood blooming beneath his torn coat. The mist clung to him like judgment—silent, heavy, unrelenting.
He had boarded the private jet two nights ago, bribing Luca's old army contact with the last of his black market crypto. The plan had been simple: fly low, land quiet, disappear into the mountains where the Moranos wouldn't find him.
But fate doesn't follow man's plans.
The pilot had dropped him in a nearby village, but the woods swallowed him before he reached shelter. His compass spun uselessly. His phone was dead. The whispers in the trees grew louder with every step, pulling him deeper into something not meant for human eyes.
Then—he saw it.
