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Enrico tut-tutted. ‘Still sore about the Kyrian pass incident?’

Savvine huffed. ‘Fokkyeah. Signet tried to interfere with our apprehension of a Lombardi operative. One who attempted to smuggle an explosive-laden flyer into the Bianchi safe zone commercial crossing. The clashes resulted in the injury of four, including two members of my team. Signet never explained what they were doing stealthed on our side of the safe perimeter and have never apologized for it.’

‘Don’t jump to conclusions,cara. Signet Co is keeping their word to the Syndicate, safeguarding their clients in the flotilla.’

‘For a fee,’ Savvine complained. ‘If you’re not on their books, they don’t care about you, and we have not required theirservices so far, even though the other cartel and mob houses test us. The Castiglianos have been moving freighters without clearance into Bianchi laneways. I’ve filed three obstruction reports this week alone.’

‘What about the Commission? Can’t you raise a petition?’

‘They’re Lombardi and Castigliano sycophants, bought and bribed into inaction.’ Her tone sharpened. ‘Those two families have been stuffing Syndicate pockets for years. Now they’re turning it into their own private council.Fokk, we -.’

‘Nada, my loves.’

Her mother’s voice cut clean across the conversation, firm and warm and impossible to ignore.

She butted in, wrapping her arms around them, shaking her head.

‘We are at a wedding,’ she said, eyes narrowed as she sliced them from husband to daughter. ‘Which means no scheming,i miei amori. No Syndicate gossip, no security chatter.Nadawar talk. One night of peace, please. For the children, if not yourselves.’

Right on cue, a thundering pack of nieces and nephews charged the trio, bright-eyed, frosting-smeared, shrieking Savvine’s name with joy.

‘Auntie! Come on! You promised ice cream!’

With a sigh, she let herself be dragged by small, gummy hands toward the glowing gelato cart between two floating dessert stations.

She cast one last glance at her parents as they pulled her away. Her father gazed at her with concern, as her mother folded her arms with a tight but satisfied smile.

For now, she focused on the laughter, sugar-sticky grins, and affection.

Tati, the smallest one, slipped her hand into hers without asking.

Tomorrow might bring more missiles.

However, tonight was all about raspberry delight and pistachio swirl.

The guests shimmered in their finery, but even beneath the glitter and glow, Savvine spotted the lines etched into faces and the slack in shoulders that had been too long under tension.

This was no ordinary wedding; this was a celebration in exile, joy in defiance.

Underlining the resistance on display, General Arasteh, handsome and suave, a career shipman and a single silver fox who made the ladies swoon, stood near the central dais.

Three aides in iridescent black uniforms flanked him.

He was not born Bianchi, but a contracted ark ship captain.

So far, he’d steered them well while keeping out of clan politics as much as possible.

His gold-stitched epaulets gleamed beneath the deck lights, and though he laughed when someone offered him an additional glass of star whiskey, his piercing gaze never stilled or dulled.

Every so often, his fingers twitched at his side, likely scanning through silent data feeds via his neural node.

Also, a prominent presence was the ship’s security detail, all under Savvine’s command.

They didn’t care about subtlety. They were positioned close to exits, vents, or apertures that might present a breach risk.

Savvine’s second-in-command, Leiko, had one hand placed on the piece at her side, eyes darting across the crowd like she expected it all to unravel.

The rest of her team’s formal jackets only partially concealed their holstered phase blasters and vibro-knives.