The villa was quiet in the early morning, the calm after the storm. Sunlight poured through tall windows, illuminating marble floors and gilded walls, but the light did nothing to soften the shadows lingering in the corners — reminders of battles fought and lives lost. Elena stood by the balcony, gazing at Palermo, her eyes sweeping over streets she had fought to protect, alleys she had turned into battlefields, and rooftops where she had hidden in plain sight, strategizing every move.

She was no longer the terrified girl who had arrived at her family estate, blood staining her hands and soul. She was a queen, a warrior, a strategist —...