Chapter 72: Lions in Training
Chapter 72: Lions in Training
Leo didn’t know the names of the people who visited the abbey.
He didn’t understand why some of them wore weapons under their coats, or why Mama kept packing and unpacking the same black bag. He didn’t fully grasp the language of encrypted comms or satellite pings—but he understood the fear in their voices when they thought he wasn’t listening.
And he understood one more thing.
The lion wasn’t just a bedtime story.
It was real. It was Papa.
And Papa was scared too.
He sat on the stone ledge outside the chapel, his sketchbook open on his knees. He was drawing again—only this time, the lion had wings.
Angela sat beside him, her gray braid tucked beneath a hood, a pistol at her side.
“Why does he have wings now?” she asked, eyeing the sketch.
“Because I want him to fly.”
Angela arched a brow. “Lions don’t fly.”
“This one does,” Leo replied with a small smile. “He has to go far away. But he’ll come back.”
She looked at him, a bit startled by the conviction in his voice.
“You trust him?” she asked.
Leo nodded. “Even when he’s scared.”
Angela leaned back and looked at the mountains. “Then you’re braver than most grown men I know.”
Leo grinned. “I’m training.”
She chuckled softly. “Keep at it, little lion.”
Inside the strategy room, Luca stared at the satellite image of Marrakesh’s old quarter. It was elegant chaos—ancient riads hidden among spice markets and luxury compounds masked as cultural retreats.
Matteo marked key checkpoints on the digital map. “Xavier’s summit location is inside the Palais Marjani. Restored 19th-century palace. No-fly zone. Private paramilitary guards contracted through Vantari Group. Ten entrances. Only two are viable for infiltration.”
“Guests?” Luca asked.
“Confirmed attendees from the Sovereign Circle, several Eastern European banking families, and at least one African oil magnate with state immunity.”
Luca leaned in. “This isn’t just about Leo or revenge anymore. Xavier’s trying to rewrite the rules of power.”
Evangeline, seated across from him, spoke up. “Which means we can’t just go in guns blazing. We need surgical precision and global exposure. If we bring him down, we do it on the world stage.”
Luca nodded. “Then we need three teams. One inside. One perimeter. And one handling media intel.”
He turned to Matteo. “Call in the Palermo network. Tell them it’s a redemption job. No blood debt. Just justice.”
“And if they refuse?”
“They won’t,” Luca said. “Not when they hear who we’re up against.”
He turned to Evangeline. “We’ll need you on the ground team.”
She didn’t blink. “Good. I planned to be.”
Luca allowed himself a small smile. “Old habits.”
Evangeline returned it, but her tone was all steel. “This time, I’m not your shadow. I’m your equal.”
Later that night, Luca found Leo still sketching in the chapel garden. The boy didn’t look up as he approached.
“You’re drawing again.”
Leo nodded. “This one’s for you.”
Luca sat beside him and looked down.
The lion now stood in front of a small cub, wings shielding him from dark clouds above. A lightning bolt threatened from the sky, but it was breaking against the lion’s back.
“I’m trying to be brave too,” Leo said softly.
Luca wrapped an arm around his small shoulders. “You already are.”
They sat there, in the glow of flickering lanterns, neither saying much. Just two hearts learning how to beat in tandem. Just a father and son building something no war could destroy.
Three days later, the team flew into Marrakesh under forged identities and diplomatic immunity.
The mission was clear:
Infiltrate the Palais Marjani.
Identify the files containing the transfer of digital control to Xavier.
Expose the foreign alliance to Interpol, the press, and allied governments.
And if possible… bring Xavier out alive.
“Why alive?” Matteo asked on the descent.
Luca’s gaze darkened.
“So he watches his empire fall.”