The affairs securely stowed in the trunk, we speed toward the port. Amadeo rides alone at the helm of his motorcycle. In the interest of discretion, we have agreed to take separate routes.

Andrea presses the pedal to the floor, eager to arrive ahead of our ally and miss nothing of the action.

With the headlights off, we enter the port's perimeter. We conceal the car, parking it discreetly in a shadowed corner. Armed to the teeth, we move like phantoms in the night, making our way toward the docks where a faint beam of light pierces the darkness.

We creep along the lanes defined by shipping containers, ever vigilant, until we hear male voices. Sensing we are close, we disperse to cover each side, ready to take them by surprise at the right moment.

Suddenly, the roar of Amadeo's motorcycle shatters the night's silence. All eyes are drawn to him as he dismounts and greets one of Tony's lieutenants. They exchange a few words before heading toward a van, likely containing the cargo. Besides Amadeo and the lieutenant, three other men are present—probably the two drivers and the seller.

Once the cargo is confirmed, we spring from the shadows and ruthlessly take down the men. Amid the hail of bullets, only the lieutenant and the seller emerge unscathed. In a spontaneous synchrony, we deal with the survivors. On one side, Amadeo engages the seller in a duel, while on the other, alongside Andy and Andrea, I face off against the lieutenant.

"What the hell is this mess ?" he exclaims.

"Nothing that really concerns you," I reply, ending his life with a shot to the head.

I turn away from the body, watching life ebb away with the flow of blood, and look over at Amadeo. His hand is on the knife embedded in his adversary's heart. With a swift motion, he pulls it out, letting the body fall with a dull thud. Relieved, I release the knot of anxiety with a sigh.

"Fernando was supposed to take us to Tony, we weren't supposed to kill him!" Amadeo snaps as he joins us.

"And how were we supposed to know that, huh ? You never told us ! You screwed up !" I shoot back, advancing on him with dark eyes.

"I screwed up ?" he retorts, mirroring my advance.

"Stop, there's no point in tearing each other apart. We'll find a solution," Andrea intervenes.

Still fuming, I force myself to calm down, distracting my anger by scrutinizing the scene before me. The gears of my mind turn, quickly finding a solution.

"Andy, search his pockets. He should have his phone and keys, maybe other useful things. Andrea, put on his suit jacket, gloves, and hat, then take his car and act like you're him. With some luck, they won't notice, and they'll let us into the manor. Amadeo, you'll drive the van as planned—don't screw it up this time. Andy, take the guy's cap and tuck your hair inside; they mustn't see you're a woman. Then sit next to Amadeo. As for me, I'll hide in the van's trunk as planned. We have to make this work; our lives depend on it," I order sharply.

Everyone moves without question, not wanting to awaken the volcano within me. Andy passes Fernando's keys and phone to Andrea, who then gets behind the wheel of the car. Amadeo and Andy take the van, helping me hide in the trunk before closing the doors.

Alone in the dark, at the mercy of my thoughts and anxiety, I control my mind to avoid being overwhelmed by grim scenarios. I can't say how much time passes before I realize we are parked in front of the manor.

More tense than ever, I cross my fingers, hoping the illusion will work. When I hear the engine purr again, I expel all intrusive thoughts, making room for the emptiness and the machine I need to become. After a few meters, I feel a jolt, signaling that we have crossed a garage threshold.

My heartbeat quickens, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I hear voices, then suddenly, a blinding light bursts in front of me. Despite my hiding spot, it takes me longer than expected to adjust to the brightness. Once I can distinguish the silhouettes, I emerge and attack the man in front of me, who collapses under my bullets.

Dressed to the nines, the corpse turns out to be the butler. I grimace at the sight as I exit the van and offer a silent apology. Facing my three comrades, my gaze joins theirs on a body sprawled at their feet. In stark contrast to my victim, this one is dressed in a tracksuit.

"Who's that ?" I ask, unintentionally whispering.

"Honestly, no one knows," Andrea grimaces.

"His style was already a crime in itself; he got what he deserved," Andy adds coldly.

I shake my head, refocusing on our mission. The silhouette of Amadeo moving to the right catches my eye.

"Hey, we need to enter here !" I inform him, pointing to the door on my left.

"I know," he replies, shooting the electrical panel, cutting the power instantly.

"Now we can go," he retorts with a proud tone that makes me grimace in annoyance.

We enter the door in single file. Blind in the darkness, I grab Andy's hand, letting her guide me for a moment. Step by step, we progress through the maze of shadows, occasionally pierced by beams of light betraying the position of each room.

Tranquility abandons us when a maid suddenly appears out of nowhere. At a few meters' distance, we notice something is off. She walks confidently toward us, devoid of fear. The absence of light doesn't seem to bother her, and despite her eyes fixed on us, no surprise registers on her face.

She is blind.

Instinctively, Andrea shifts to the right, and we follow suit. When the maid passes by me, I pin her against the wall, one hand over her mouth, and plunge a blade into her heart. I lower her gently to the ground to avoid any noise, laying her down as delicately as possible.

"Was that necessary ?" Amadeo whispers in my ear.

"Don't you get the part about wiping everyone out, you idiot?" I retort, exasperated, as I pull the blade from my victim.

I feel him tense at my words. The face he showed when we first met resurfaces, erasing the one we had grown accustomed to over the past two weeks.

So this is what awaits us on every mission ? Miscommunication and defiance of orders ?

A wave of regret washes over me for dragging him along, as a growing mistrust of him begins to take root in my gut.

The sound of quick but quiet footsteps descending the stairs brings me back to reality. We decide to disperse into the rooms off the corridor. Separated, our chances of survival increase.

The room I enter resembles a living room. Carefully, I avoid the knick-knacks, watching my step to avoid bumping into anything that might give me away. I suddenly hear muffled noises, followed by a gunshot. My blood runs cold, panic gripping my gut, fearing one of us is hit. I am quickly reassured when I step out and see everyone safe. I suppress a smile when I see Andy with a thumbs-up and a grin on her face.

With a collective nod, we decide to move upstairs. We wait a few seconds between each person to avoid being caught all at once and to make as little noise as possible. I am the last to ascend.

At the top, I find myself on a large landing with numerous doors and a corridor. Not knowing where the others have gone, I enter the first room I see. Despite the darkness, the moonlight outlines a four-poster bed that dominates the room. I move slowly and quietly, but the creaking floor betrays me. Suddenly, I hear gunshots nearby and groans of pain.

On the verge of leaving the room, I hear stifled sobs. I turn toward the sound and see a closet door. I pray it isn't a child, not ready yet to take such a life. After a deep breath, I quickly open the door, stepping aside to avoid any bullets. As expected, a shot rings out, followed by sobs. I aim my weapon at my victim and discover a terrified old woman. I suppress the pity trying to take hold of my mind and, before pulling the trigger, say:

"Sorry, this will be quick."

The gunshot silences her sobs forever.

I ignore the conflicting emotions within me. I can't afford to feel anything, or I'll self-destruct. I regain my composure, thinking of my strength, Ezio and Orfeo, two innocents whose lives have been mercilessly taken.

Reinvigorated, I continue my advance. Another gunshot echoes. My hair stands on end, praying that each of my companions is unharmed. I press on, step by step, until I feel an arm wrap around my neck.

Caught off guard, I begin to panic but quickly regain control. I ignore the lack of oxygen and deliver a sharp elbow to his gut, shifting him to my left. With a violent motion, I strike his knee with the butt of my gun. He loses his balance and releases me, allowing me to catch my breath. I turn, and as he kneels, I kick him in the head, sending him reeling backward. In a final burst of energy, I lean over him and swiftly, precisely, slash his throat.

Out of breath, I regain my composure as I walk, unwilling to stay still. I scour the last remaining rooms, all of them empty. Now, I stand before a final door, a sliver of light shining beneath it. Intrigued, I open it and stumble upon the rest of the family.

A quaint candlelit gathering greets me. The last security guard lies on the floor, a knife in his chest. Amadeo is also down, but the faint rise and fall of his chest indicates that his condition isn't yet critical. I can't tell whether I feel disappointed or relieved by this. Andrea has the lieutenant at gunpoint, who, to my horror, is holding Andy hostage. Directly in front of me, seated on a sofa, are Tony, his wife, and their two children, all in shock and tears.