The morning fog clung to Palermo like a shroud, curling through the alleyways and wrapping the city in a damp, suffocating silence. Elena stood on the balcony of the villa, arms folded across her chest, eyes scanning the horizon. The docks were still smoldering in the distance, black smoke curling toward the sky as a warning that fire had come and would not leave.

Enzo joined her quietly, his presence a shadow of heat and steel. His hands rested on the balcony railing, knuckles white, jaw tight. “The Council won’t respond immediately,” he said, voice low, carrying the weight of someone who had fought wars in more ways than one....