The convoy reached the western canal district in under seven minutes.
Not fast enough.
Rain lashed the windshields. Sirens stayed off. Headlights cut through wet stone streets and iron bridges as Milan blurred past in streaks of gold and black.
The timer on Oliver's tablet kept counting.
00:18:42
00:18:41
Anna glanced at him.
He hadn't moved in minutes.
Not physically.
But everything around him moved because he willed it.
Teams redirected.
Boats deployed.
Bridges locked.
Traffic cameras rerouted.
Drones lifted over the canal system.
Power in motion.
Still, his jaw was tight enough to break.
"You're doing it again," Anna said.
"What."
"Trying to control time."
"It's badly managed."
She almost smiled.
Almost.
The western locks were older than the city around them—massive stone gates, maintenance tunnels, hidden slips beneath road level.
Perfect for smugglers.
Perfect for Adrian.
Oliver's teams split immediately.
One unit took upper bridges.
Another entered the tunnel network.
A third launched silent boats.
Anna stayed beside Oliver as they descended iron stairs toward the underground marina.
Water echoed below.
The place smelled of fuel, wet concrete, and money doing illegal things.
Rows of private berths stretched into shadow.
Most empty.
One yacht remained powered.
Black hull.
Engines warm.
Lights on.
Timer:
00:11:03
Oliver signaled.
Teams surrounded silently.
Then a voice echoed from the vessel speakers.
Adrian.
"Welcome, family."
Anna sighed.
"He really loves microphones."
"Later," Oliver said.
They boarded.
Main deck clear.
Dining room clear.
Cabins clear.
Too clean.
Then they reached the lower medical suite.
Oliver's father lay unconscious on a bed, oxygen running, IV attached.
Alive.
Again bait, but alive.
Doctors rushed in.
Anna checked the room fast.
"No Adrian."
Oliver saw the open rear hatch.
Water moving beyond it.
"He transferred."
A guard ran in.
"Sir! Secondary engine wake—small craft exited three minutes ago through maintenance lock!"
Oliver turned instantly.
"Boat."
Two minutes later they were on a pursuit craft tearing through the canal.
Rain stung skin.
Engines screamed.
Water sprayed black under city lights.
Ahead, a smaller speedboat cut through narrow channels.
Adrian stood at the wheel like a man enjoying opera.
"Of course he's standing," Anna shouted over the engine noise.
Oliver drove harder.
"He likes audiences."
Bullets sparked from Adrian's boat.
Oliver's security returned fire carefully.
The chase ripped under bridges and through stone corridors of water.
Timer:
00:05:14
Anna frowned.
"The countdown—why is it still running if your father is safe?"
Oliver's expression changed.
Because he'd seen it first.
"It was never for him."
Her pulse dropped.
"Then for what?"
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered on speaker.
Adrian laughed over wind.
"Well done, nephew. You rescued sentiment."
Oliver's voice was lethal.
"What did you arm?"
"Not what."
A pause.
"Who."
Anna's blood ran cold.
Adrian continued.
"You left Veronica with your people. Such trust."
Behind them, on the yacht, a distant explosion thundered across the water.
Fire lit the canal sky.
The medical vessel.
Anna spun.
"No!"
Oliver's face became stone.
"Status!" he barked into comms.
Voices shouted back through static.
"Blast lower deck—contained—father evacuated—multiple injuries—Veronica missing!"
Adrian laughed again.
"She does hate captivity."
The line cut.
Anna stared ahead.
"Veronica planted the bomb."
"Yes."
"And you knew she might."
"Yes."
"Then why keep her close?"
His eyes never left the fleeing boat.
"Because liars run to the truth when pressure rises."
Ahead, Adrian's craft entered a narrowing lock channel.
Dead end unless gates opened.
Oliver accelerated instead of slowing.
Anna looked at him.
"Tell me this plan exists."
"It does."
"Good."
"What's it called?"
He glanced at her once.
"Impact."
Then he rammed Adrian's boat sideways into the lock wall.
Wood splintered.
Metal screamed.
Both vessels crashed hard.
Anna grabbed the rail as chaos exploded.
When it stopped, Adrian's boat was pinned.
And Oliver was already boarding through smoke and rain.
The final confrontation had begun.