Chatper 98- Welcome to Sicily, old friend

The jet touched down in Sicily under the cover of night, the hum of the engines fading into the distant sea breeze. Zack barely waited for the stairs to fully extend before he stepped off, his pulse a steady, lethal rhythm in his ears. The air was thick with the scent of salt and damp earth, but it did nothing to ease the rage burning in his veins.

Zain followed closely behind, his eyes scanning their surroundings while Ace and Francesco took up defensive positions, watching for any potential threats. The airstrip was mostly deserted—just a few grounded planes and a hangar in the distance—but Zack knew better than to trust the stillness.

"Rizi, status," Zack murmured into his earpiece.