Chapter 50

• The day broke soft and golden over the Sicilian coast, where the air smelled of sea salt and wildflowers, and the blood-soaked chaos of the past felt like a distant nightmare. For once, there were no enemies in sight. No looming threats. Just the hum of the sea and the rhythm of hearts that had survived the fire.
• Kieran stood barefoot on the sun-warmed stones of the ancient villa’s terrace, the breeze brushing through his hair. Below him, the waves stretched endless and silver. Behind him… footsteps.
• Isandro.