Page 14 of The Savage

I’ve played puppet master for too long, fingered too many pies, to turn back now.

Some would call it interference.

I call it correction.

The world is full of men who believe they’re untouchable: dons, politicians, CEOs, each convinced the rules don’t apply to them. I just happen to be the ghost in their machines, the invisible accountant making sure debts are paid. A few keystrokes and empires fall, accounts vanish, entire bloodlines are stripped bare of the power they stole. Not for justice. Never justice. For balance.

Over the years, I’ve crashed bank servers for fun, exposed corrupt judges for sport, and delivered more secrets to both sides of a war than either realise. But the Salvatores… they’re different.

They’re my favourite equation, chaos dressed in couture. I didn’t plan to become their unseen hand, but every time I meddle, the world sharpens. Patterns align. The numbers hum the way they should.

I don’t interfere.

I curate.

* * *

I’m pondering my next move when the screen beside his bed flashes red and Renzo’s vitals spike again, then drops.

Nurses rush in, blocking the camera view.

Cesare’s mouth moves and my green code captures the movements and translate.

He’s praying and cursing and praying.

They grow from a whisper to a roar when the flat line echoes through the hospital speakers.

No.

I lean closer, pulse hammering, ignoring the sweat collecting on my upper lip. Come on, you reckless bastard. Breathe. We’re not done tussling yet.

Another second. Then another.

A blip. Two.

He’s alive. Barely.

I close my eyes and let out a long, unsteady breath.

Ten minutes later, after the doctors wheel him away to place him in his second induced coma, I sit back in my seat, my fingers steepled against my lips.

That was close.

Too fucking close.

I have the solution. The last card. I hadn’t wanted to play it just yet.

But… needs must, apparently.

I drag the cursor to the top of the screen, type a new command into the encrypted server. The system blinks once, then green-lights the operation.

Nightowl

Airlift to Italy. Standby for logistics.

I watch Cesare’s phone activate and my message appear. He immediately frowns.

Cesare