The first warning did not come with violence.
It came with silence.
The orphanage did not open that morning.
No laughter spilled into the street. No children ran through the courtyard. The gates were locked, the lights off, the painted walls untouched by movement. The director's phone rang unanswered. Volunteers arrived and left again, unsettled by the quiet.
By noon, Luca knew something was wrong.
Marcelo stood in the war room, phone pressed tight to his ear, his expression rigid. "No signs of forced entry. No alarms tripped. It is like they simply vanished."
Luca's voice was sharp. "How many."
"Fourteen children. Three staff members."
Aria's hand flew to her mouth.
The room went cold.
"They did not take them," Nico said slowly. "Not yet."
Marcelo ended the call and faced them. "There was a message."
Luca's eyes burned. "Where."
Marcelo slid a photograph onto the table.
