CHAPTER 30
The only sound in the room was the soft hum of Grayson’s laptop and the occasional click of keys.
He sat at the small desk in the corner of the safehouse, sleeves pushed to his elbows, a cup of cold coffee half-finished beside him. His face was calm, unreadable, the kind of quiet that only came from a man who used to live in chaos — and walked away from it.
Luca stood by the window, arms crossed, eyes on the street like he wasn’t really seeing it. His jacket was draped over a chair, shirt sleeves rolled up, tension lingering in his jaw.
“You still don’t want to tell me what this is about,” Grayson said without looking up.
Luca didn’t answer right away. He just shifted slightly, like the weight in his chest pressed down a little more.
“I just need you to access the Vescari Club’s security feed,” he said. “Nothing more.”
Grayson leaned back in the chair, rubbing the back of his neck.
“You know I don’t touch that stuff anymore.”
“I know.”
“it must be important if you came to me and not the people you work with?" He said then added " what's happening at work Luca , "
Luca finally turned from the window. His expression was steady, but the edge in his voice was clear. " there's a mole so I can't trust anyone and I need the night’s footage for yesterday. I need to know who Nino met with and ID the guy .”
Grayson didn’t respond for a long moment. Then: “That’s all?”
“For now.”
Grayson gave a small nod, pushed his coffee aside, and opened a clean terminal window. “You have a time frame?”
“Between eleven-thirty and midnight.”
“Alright,” he muttered. “Let me see what I can pull.”
Luca stepped over slowly, watching the screen from behind him and, just stood quietly as Grayson worked.
Minutes passed and After a while, he narrowed his eyes and leaned in slightly. “There.”
Luca stepped closer.
The footage was grainy static in the corners, dim lighting in the hallway but it showed what he needed to see. Nino entering, alone. Then the tall man in the black suit. The camera angle didn’t catch a full face. Just the posture and his movement..
Yes . I think.,” Luca murmured “Antonio mentioned a name. Dante. I need to be sure if that’s who this is.”
Grayson leaned back in his chair, tapping a key to freeze the frame.
“You have a picture of him?”
“No."
"Find another angle and Try to get a clearer profile of this guy" Luca said
Grayson hadn’t said a word in minutes just typed, flicked through camera files, backtracked timestamps. His fingers worked with their usual precision, faster , calculated and precise
Then he paused. Rewound. Clicked.
“There,” he muttered, almost to himself.
Luca stepped closer.
This wasn’t the same feed from earlier.
“Found an older backup,” Grayson explained quietly. “Club’s external cameras — this one’s near the staff exit. Low angle, but… clean.”
On-screen, Nino appeared again. He checked his phone, glanced around.
A moment later, the man in the black suit followed.
Not just a blur now his face turned slightly toward the camera, catching the light.
Sharp jaw. Dark eyes. A long, thin scar near his ear.
And something colder beneath his stillness.
Luca leaned in slightly.
Grayson didn’t ask if this was the guy. He already knew.
Instead, he pulled up a separate window. “Let me run it through biometric recognition. Partial face scan. If this guy’s ever been caught on a government camera, we’ll get something.”
Luca said nothing.
The software did its work. Slow pulses filled the silence as the scan loaded, matched andchecked databases.
It took forty seconds.
Then a name flashed across the screen.
DANTE SILVESTRI Alias records: 3
Immigration flag: Italy, Mexico
Last confirmed sighting: Palermo, 2015
Status: RED NOTICE — UNCONFIRMED ASSOCIATIONS (AZUL CARTEL, SICILIAN SYNDICATE)
They stared at the screen a second longer.
“Send it to me, Im meeting up with Marcello later, he needs to see this,” Luca said.
Grayson clicked once. “ I already did.”
He stood, finally stepping back from the desk then added “You gonna tell Marcello?”
Luca nodded once. “ yeah, he's the only one I trust.”
Grayson didn’t ask more. Just folded his arms and glanced at the screen one last time.
“I don’t like the look in his eyes.”
Luca’s reply was flat. “Neither do I.”
The screen dimmed slightly as Grayson stood off to the side, arms folded again.
Luca hadn’t moved. He was still staring at Dante Silvestri’s face on the monitor, as if trying to memorize every line, every shadow.
His voice came low.
“Can you pull up anything else on him?”
“Like what?” Grayson asked.
“Connections. Family. Associates. I want to know if the Sicilian link is real or just tagged on.”
Grayson moved back to the keyboard without a word.
He opened another window, a backend scrape of archived records from international watchlists, local arrests, financial movement across flagged organizations. It wasn’t standard access. But he knew where to look.
Lines of code flickered across the screen. A search bar. Then he typed in his search
Search: Dante Silvestri — Affiliations: Sicilian Syndicate
The results loaded. Then blinked out.
Grayson frowned.
“…That’s not right.”
“What?”
He tried again. A deeper scrape this time, bouncing through old interpol caches.
“No logs. No archived tags. Not even sealed files.”
He paused, leaned forward slightly. “It’s not just missing. It’s scrubbed. Like someone wiped his entire Sicilian trail clean.”
Luca’s brow tightened. “That even possible?”
Grayson exhaled through his nose. “Not without inside help.”
A moment passed and realization hit all at once, but sunk in like a slow weight.
“They’re erasing his footprint,” Grayson added quietly. “Someone doesn’t want that connection showing up.”
Luca stepped back from the screen, jaw tight. " Who is this guy!! ...." He murmured while pacing towards the window and back.
Grayson glanced at the screen again. “I’ll keep digging. But I wouldn’t hold my breath on anything official showing up. This goes deeper.”
Luca nodded slowly. “Send me the raw screenshots. I’ll brief Marcello in person.”
As Grayson clicked through the files to export them, Luca stood in silence again eyes narrowed, hand resting loosely on his belt, his mind spiralling.
Fuck , they really were smart..
????????