The night wrapped Rome in a heavy, suffocating darkness, broken only by the dim glow of street lamps reflecting off slick cobblestones. My boots barely made a sound as I moved alongside Isabella, each step measured, each glance alert. The air smelled faintly of salt and diesel from the Tiber, but the danger pressing in made every scent sharp and immediate. I tightened my grip on her hand, feeling her pulse, the warmth of her skin grounding me even as every fiber of my body screamed for action.

“This place feels… wrong,” Isabella murmured, voice barely above the whisper of the wind. She kept close, her presence a balm against...