POV: Emilia Conti
Retaliation didn't announce itself.
It never did.
It slipped in sideways—quiet, administrative, wearing the face of procedure. That was Luciano's signature. When brute force failed, he weaponized systems. When violence attracted eyes, he let institutions do the damage for him.
I realized that an hour after Reynolds was taken away.
Strauss was still coordinating containment. Alessio was resting under supervision. The building felt almost stable again—like we'd earned a pause.
That was the illusion.
My phone rang.
Not encrypted.
Not unknown.
The hospital.
I answered immediately. "This is Dr. Conti."
"Emilia," my department head said, voice tight. "We need to talk."
Something in his tone made my stomach drop.
"About what?" I asked.
There was a pause—too long.
"There's been a complaint," he said carefully.
I closed my eyes once. "From whom?"
"I can't say," he replied. "But it's serious."
"Define serious," I said.
