Lisbon was quiet, but Leonardo knew the silence never lasted.
The safehouse stood like a fortress disguised in glass. Daylight poured through tall windows, touching on rows of books, maps, and encrypted communication consoles. It had once been an embassy, now a listening post cloaked as a modern villa.
But Leonardo didn't spend his time admiring the view.
He studied the cracks beneath the world.
Because the pieces were starting to move again.
And this time, it wasn't just street racers or cartel money.
This was something colder.
More precise.
"You're brooding again," Tabane said, flopped upside-down on the lounge couch, her boots kicked toward the ceiling.
Leonardo glanced up from a satellite feed. "I don't brood."
She raised an eyebrow. "Please. You practically invented the brooding recline."
"I analyze."
"Same thing, but with maps."
Han's data chip had finally decrypted.
Inside: audio snippets, cargo manifests, and partial coordinates—all pointing to a single growing name in the underworld.
Owen Shaw.
Ex-military. Ex-special forces. Now reportedly running a mobile paramilitary unit focused on high-speed theft, tech sabotage, and weapons procurement.
Officially, he didn't exist.
But Leonardo didn't play by official rules.
Alfred arrived at the library with an envelope.
"No return address," he said calmly. "Intercepted from one of our Berlin safe drops. Thought you'd want to see it."
Leonardo took the envelope and opened it carefully.
Inside: a photograph.
Blurry. Night-vision capture.
A convoy, six cars deep. Tactical armor. Stolen military-grade vehicles.
The lead vehicle had a unique insignia on the fender.
Leonardo narrowed his eyes.
"I've seen that before," he muttered.
Tabane hovered closer. "Shaw's signature?"
He nodded slowly. "Modified. Modernized. But yes."
Tabane's grin grew sharper. "Time to build a few new toys?"
That night, in the lower levels of the safehouse, the lab came alive.
Tabane worked like a mad composer—blue sparks flying, holograms dancing. Leonardo joined her, not to build anything world-breaking, but to design countermeasures.
EMP-resistant engine mods. License-shifting software to confuse city surveillance. Tire compounds that absorbed and re-released kinetic traction.
Tools for war.
But quiet ones.
A Week Later – Munich
Leonardo walked through the industrial zone dressed as a logistics auditor. No one looked twice.
The Interpol raid had left behind more questions than bodies.
But what caught his attention was the hole in the warehouse floor.
Clean cut. Laser-sealed.
Exactly the kind of extraction method he would've used.
He knelt, fingertips brushing the edge of the rupture.
"They're getting bolder," he said into his comm.
Tabane's voice chirped back in his earpiece. "Data confirms that convoy was moving a high-frequency detonation module. Something nasty. Black market value through the roof."
Leonardo stood. "Shaw's testing Interpol's net. Gauging response time."
"Or laying bait."
Either way, it meant things were escalating.
And fast.
Back in Lisbon, Koko arrived without warning.
Her private jet touched down an hour before dawn. She walked into the safehouse wearing a white blazer, sunglasses, and the kind of smile that made assassins flinch.
Leonardo met her with a raised brow. "No call?"
She grinned. "Surprise inspections are the best kind. Besides, my favorite engineer and chaos bunny are here."
Tabane twirled from behind the counter. "Heyyy, arms dealer supreme! You look lethal today."
"I'm always lethal," Koko replied. Then turned serious. "I've seen what you've been tracking."
Leonardo handed her the open dossier. "What's your take?"
Koko's eyes scanned the files. Her expression hardened.
"Shaw's smart. Surgical. Not like Reyes or Braga. This isn't about territory or money. It's evolution."
Leonardo nodded. "He's testing the world's immune system. Before he infects it."
They worked for two more weeks, building intelligence webs across Europe.
Leonardo never acted openly. He didn't interfere.
Not yet.
But every time Shaw moved, Leonardo took note.
Every convoy. Every detour. Every missing prototype.
Because he wasn't chasing shadows.
He was mapping the outline of a future war.
One Night – Safehouse Balcony
Rain again.
Leonardo leaned on the railing; eyes distant.
Tabane approached quietly, unusually still.
"You miss them," she said.
He didn't ask who.
The team.
Dom. Brian. Mia. Han. Gisele.
"I do," he admitted. "But they're still chasing peace. I'll only bring storms."
Tabane leaned beside him. "Then let them rest. You'll carry the thunder."
The Next Morning
A coded message arrived.
Location: London.
Time stamp: 6 hours prior.
Subject: Letty Ortiz. Confirmed sighting.
Leonardo stared at the screen.
The woman they buried.
Now walking.
Alive.
Koko stood behind him, arms folded.
"Are you going?"
He didn't respond.
But his eyes said enough.
The time for silence was ending.
The ghost was stirring.
And somewhere in the heart of London, fate had reopened a chapter long thought closed.