Chapter Ninety-Five – Across the Sea

Chapter Ninety-Five – Across the Sea
He turned the photo around.

It was a picture of a woman chained in a dark room — pale, bruised, but unmistakably alive. Her face looked like Giulia’s, older maybe, but the same.

Isabella covered her mouth. “That’s—”

“Geneva,” Dante said, voice low.

There was writing on the back of the photo, just one line in messy print: Come find what you lost.

Dante dropped the photo on the table and stepped back. “It’s a trap.”

“Maybe,” Isabella said quietly. “But it’s also proof.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Bianca and Giulia… they might already be close.”

Isabella picked up the photo again, studying it. “She’s alive, Dante.”

He didn’t speak for a long moment. Then, finally, he said, “If this is real… everything changes.”

She looked at him. “Then what do we do?”

He met her eyes. “We find her. No matter what it takes.”

She nodded once. “Then we start tomorrow.”

He nodded too, jaw set. But as he turned away, his expression hardened again.

Because deep down, he already knew — this message wasn’t meant to lead them to Geneva. It was meant to lead them into another war.

Outside, a car passed slowly down the street, its headlights sweeping across the boarded\-up windows before fading into the distance.

Inside the dim room, Dante stared at the photo again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“She’s alive.”

Isabella came to stand beside him. “Then we bring her home.”

The light flickered again, and the sound of rain began tapping against the glass.

Neither of them spoke after that. The only sound was the steady rhythm of the rain and the soft hum of the refrigerator — as if the world outside had paused, waiting for what came next.

The train rattled through the outskirts of Bucharest, cutting through patches of snow and old buildings. Giulia sat by the window, her eyes fixed on the passing blur. She hadn’t said a word in over an hour.

Across from her, Bianca closed a small notebook and slipped it into her coat. “You’ll burn a hole through that glass if you keep staring like that.”

Giulia didn’t look away. “I’m just thinking.”

“About her?”

“What else would I be thinking about?”

Bianca sighed, adjusting her gloves. “You need rest. We’ve been chasing names and lies for days.”

Giulia turned to face her, her tone sharper than she meant it to be. “I can rest when I find her.”

“You said that two nights ago,” Bianca muttered. “And look how that went — you almost passed out in the middle of the market.”

Giulia rolled her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Bianca said quietly. “You haven’t been fine since we left home.”

Giulia leaned back, arms crossed. “Home doesn’t exist anymore. You saw what they did to the compound.”

Bianca stayed silent for a moment, then said, “You sound like your brother when he’s angry.”

Giulia’s lips twitched slightly. “Yeah, well, maybe it runs in the family.”

The train slowed. A voice in Romanian announced the next stop. Bianca looked out the window and nodded. “We get off here.”

They stepped onto the platform, pulling their coats tighter against the cold. The air smelled of wet stone and diesel. A small café stood across the street, dimly lit but open.

“Come on,” Bianca said, heading inside.

Giulia followed, glancing around the café’s empty tables. The waitress barely looked up as Bianca ordered coffee and two pastries in fluent Romanian.

When they sat down, Giulia leaned forward. “So what’s the plan this time?”

Bianca took a slow sip of her coffee. “There’s a man in this city — former Consortium security chief. He used to manage transport routes through the Balkans. If Geneva was moved around Europe, he’ll know something.”

Giulia frowned. “And he’ll just tell us?”

Bianca smiled faintly. “He’ll tell us something. Whether he wants to or not.”

Giulia looked down at her coffee, tracing her finger along the rim of the cup. “Do you ever wonder what she’s like now?”

Bianca’s face softened, just slightly. “Every day.”

Giulia met her eyes. “Then why do you sound so calm?”

“Because if I let myself feel everything, I wouldn’t survive it.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Bianca’s phone buzzed. She checked the message — a name and an address.

“He’s expecting us,” she said, finishing her drink.

Giulia stood. “Let’s go, then.”

\---

They found the man in a bar that smelled of old smoke and cheap beer. His name was Anton, tall and scarred, with a lazy eye and a heavy accent. He sat in the back corner, surrounded by two bodyguards who looked more bored than dangerous.

Bianca approached first. “Anton,” she greeted in his language, her tone friendly but firm.

He squinted at her. “Do I know you?”

“You knew my husband,” she said casually. “Or maybe you knew the people who killed him. Hard to tell these days.”

That caught his attention. He motioned for her to sit. “You came a long way for words.”

Giulia slid into the chair beside her mother. “We came for answers.”

Anton smiled, showing gold teeth. “Everyone comes for answers. Few like the ones I give.”

Bianca placed an envelope on the table — cash. “Then make these ones worth it.”

He eyed it for a few seconds before taking it. “What do you want to know?”

“Genevieve,” Bianca said quietly. “She was taken as a child. Sold through your networks under the Consortium.”

Anton leaned back, exhaling smoke. “That name… it’s been years.”

“Then remember,” Giulia said sharply.

He smirked at her tone. “You’ve got her fire.”

“Whose?”

“The woman who came looking before you. Your mother.”

Giulia glanced at Bianca, who didn’t react. “She’s not the one asking questions now,” Giulia said coldly.

Anton shrugged. “There were whispers about a girl — a ghost girl. Trained, controlled, used to keep certain men in line. No one saw her clearly. No one touched her. But she existed.”

Giulia’s stomach tightened. “Where?”

He shook his head. “They moved her constantly. Italy, Austria, Russia… I stopped counting. But there was one man who always handled her transfers.”

“Who?” Bianca pressed.

“An ex-general. Consortium branch in the East. Retired, they say. But those types don’t really retire.”

“Name,” Bianca said.

Anton smirked again. “That’ll cost extra.”

Bianca didn’t blink. She nodded at Giulia, who pulled out another envelope and dropped it on the table.

Anton opened it, whistled, then scribbled something on a napkin. “There. That’s all I have.”

Giulia snatched it before Bianca could. “Sergei Volkov?”

Anton nodded. “You’ll find him near the Black Sea. But if you go there…” He looked between them. “You might not come back.”

Bianca stood. “We’ve been warned before.”

As they walked out, Giulia shoved the napkin into her pocket. “Do you believe him?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bianca said. “It’s our first real lead.”