THE ITALIAN MISSION

f experience, took charge of the overall strategy. He meticulously studied blueprints, memorizing every nook and cranny of the San Marco

un out of her rosary beads, Steve possessed a skillset that rounded out the team perfectly. He was adept at blending into the ba

s riddled with inconsistencies. The details were vague, shrouded in a convenient fog. Cha

finally broke. Lyle, his eyes bloodshot from staring at computer s

voice. "This whole 'Steve can handle it' business. How do w

mile momentarily faltering. "Hey, I get it. New guy, right? But trust me, I'm al

identally trigger some silent alarm and

le and drawn, coughed harshly. "Lyle, stop it. We nee

ving the exchange, felt a familiar unease gnaw at him. He couldn't ignore the d

ght out John for a late-night conversation. They sat on the fir

d serious, "tell me everything about St

Charlie. Said he heard about the job, knew he could

ted him? With ever

Charlie. Young, hungry, with something to p

heist hinges on trust, on knowing we can rely on each o

his face. "I... there might be something else,"

scrawled across the back sent a jolt through Charlie – Stella Bridger. John's daug

him, to protect him from himself. But Steve, John claimed, had intervened, promising to ensure his safety. In

promise of gold, but also with the weight of a fractured family. John's desperation, Charlie realized,

hardening his voice. "We need to know where Stella stands in all

they'd assembled, forged in the crucible of shared purpose, now faced a new challenge – the gnaw