The streets of Palermo had transformed overnight. Where yesterday there had been ordinary traffic and the hum of life, today there were whispers of chaos — cars overturned, sirens wailing in the distance, shadows moving in ways that suggested every corner hid an enemy.

Elena leaned against the window of their black armored car, the rain still lashing against the glass. Her hair was damp, sticking in dark strands to her cheek, but she didn’t care. Her mind was elsewhere — running through every possible scenario, every ally and enemy they’d made in the last twenty-four hours.

Enzo drove, calm as a predator, hands steady on the wheel despite the...