The rain had stopped, but the city was still dripping. Water spilled from the edges of rooftops, turning the streetlights into fractured halos.
Emilia’s phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.
Nora’s voice came through the speaker, tight with urgency.
“We’ve got problems. Three of the shipment routes were hit tonight. No survivors on our side.”
Emilia’s fingers tightened around the phone.
“Cesare?”
“Who else moves that clean?”
Emilia ended the call without replying. She didn’t need the confirmation–she could feel his hand closing around her throat, even from across the city.
####
When she turned, Rafael was leaning against her kitchen counter, watching her. His shirt clung to his chest, damp from the streets, his hair pushed back like he’d been running.
“Bad news?” he asked.
“Three routes,
