Isabella

The Lower City had a private airstrip close to the beach on the south side of the island. That area was more desert than green fields. I could almost taste the desert air carried from across the Mediterranean from Africa as soon as I alighted from the plane.

Waiting for us some distance away from the landing strip were two large black SUVs. Standing in front of one of them was a hard-looking man with a smile. The man had a deep scar running from his forehead down to his chin.

 I turned around to find Damon shaking hands with the pilot, who later waved at me. The man's...