Chapter 64

• That afternoon. The sky over Palermo was a steel curtain, the kind that blanketed the city lights. I pulled the hood tighter over my head as I stepped off the bus, my boots clicking softly against the cobblestones of the outer district. I’d dyed my hair the dullest shade of brown I could find in an alleyway salon and paired it with oversized glasses. Nobody gave me a second glance. Good….
• Every step I took toward the apartment complex felt like walking back into the past, into the shadows of my father’s unfinished plans. I didn’t know if this was revenge or just the kind of grief that never grew old. Maybe they were the same thing.
• Apartment 7B. Third floor. No elevator. No cameras. Only the occasional cough from behind closed doors and the stale scent of cigarette smoke soaked into the walls.