HE TRUSTED HIM WITH HIS LIFE—UNTIL A 3ARIA-YEAR-OLD’S CRAYON DRAWING EXPOSED THE DEADLIEST TRAITOR IN THE UNDERWORLD! (THE ENDING WILL SHOCK YOU!)

"Sir!" one of the guards shouted, rushing toward the doorway and slamming his fists against the thick steel. "The door is sealed! The electronic override has been fried from the main terminal!"

Dante didn't panic. His expression remained deadpan as he inspected the control panel. Sparks danced across the exposed wiring, emitting a faint, rhythmic ticking sound.

"It's not just a lock," Dante said calmly, shining his tactical flashlight across the ceiling. "It’s a thermal pressure trigger."

Elena’s voice crackled through the tactical radio earpiece from the command vehicle outside. "Dante! Do you copy? We’ve intercepted an external transmission originating from the courtyard's primary security server! It’s a countdown sequence!"

"How much time do we have?" Dante asked steadily.

"Three minutes!" Elena shouted, the sound of keyboard clacking audible in the background. "The whole palazzo is wired with military-grade C4! She didn't just want the ledger, Dante—she wants to bury the entire Moretti lineage in a mass grave!"

"Can you bypass the security firewall from your end?"

"I’m trying, but the encryption is military-grade black-box software! It’s locking me out at every turn!"

Inside the vault, the guards began frantically searching the walls for structural weaknesses or alternative ventilation shafts. But the archive was designed to withstand a direct missile strike; its reinforced concrete walls were four feet thick.

Dante walked slowly to the center of the room, looking down at the handwritten note resting on the table. He turned it over. On the back was a small, childish sketch drawn with a red crayon—a tiny stick figure standing beside a burning car, waving goodbye.