The villa was unusually quiet that morning. The storm from the night before had left Palermo drenched, streets glistening under a gray, oppressive sky. Elena moved through the halls silently, her senses sharp, aware that the peace was fragile — a delicate illusion waiting to be shattered.

Enzo was in the strategy room, hunched over the digital map of the city. His jaw was tight, eyes scanning every potential threat, every ally’s position. He didn’t notice Elena at first. When he finally looked up, his expression softened, but the edge in his eyes remained.

“They’re moving,” he said, voice low, almost a growl. “The Council has regrouped. I’ve intercepted messages...