The Feast Amidst the Chaos
Ten hours. That’s how long the silence of the precinct had been broken only by the rhythmic hum of the photocopiers and the clinking of ice in crystal glasses. Under the direct command of the CIA, this local police station was no longer a public office; it was a fortress of secrets.
As the inventory of seized weapons, drugs, and blood money grew, so did the hunger of the team. But Francesca, Alexander, and Raffaello aren’t your typical officers. Their assistants, trained for every whim, transformed a grimy desk into a gourmet spread. Fried seafood, fresh shrimp, and delicate pastries appeared alongside bottles of high-end whiskey and Martini. For these elite operatives, a drink isn't a party—it's a calculated ritual. They are the masters of self-control; a sip to steady the hand, a bite to fuel the brain, but never enough to lose the edge. They live in transit, sleeping in tactical bags that unfold into beds, ready to move at a moment’s notice.
But the real discovery wasn't the pile of cash. It was a face in the crowd of detainees. A ghost from the 2018 Paris church bombing that claimed over 300 lives. He was left alone in a cold room, tied down under a blinding light for ten hours, while the agents ate. Let him wait. Let the silence weigh more than any physical blow. Because when Raffaello finally walks through that door, the meal will be over, and the reckoning will begin.
Read the next part here: 👉 Chapter 3: The Mirror of the Soul (Link available soon)
