“Marcus is a parasite,” Giovanni said, his voice dropping an octave. “He can only feed on what I leave behind.”

Before I could answer, a sharp, electronic chime cut through the quiet room.

It came from a sleek, black secure terminal sitting on the corner of the desk.

The screen flickered to life, casting a cold, blue glow over Giovanni’s face.

A red notification icon began to pulse in the center of the display.

Giovanni stepped closer, his posture instantly shifting from vulnerable to alert.

He tapped the screen with one finger, entering a complex passcode.

“What is it?” I asked, a cold knot forming in my stomach.

“My security team,” he said, his eyes scanning the lines of text that began to scroll down the monitor.

The blue light reflected in his pupils as his brow furrowed deeper with every passing second.

“They intercepted a communication,” he murmured, his voice tightening.

“From Marcus?” I asked.

“From an encrypted server in downtown Boston,” he said.

He gripped the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning white against the dark mahogany.