NICHOLAS'S POV
The warehouse looked like the bones of a huge animal, with blackened ribs reaching up to a gray sky in Sicily.
Smoke still rose from the twisted metal, carrying the smell of burnt chemicals and something else, something that made my stomach tighten with a deep feeling of recognition.
Death.
I stepped out of the SUV, boots crunching over glass and garbage.
The silence was wrong.
Too complete, too careful.
Like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something terrible to happen.
"Boss," Carlos murmured beside me, his hand already moving toward his weapon. "This doesn't feel right."
He was right.
The warehouse should have been swarming with investigators, police, and our security team. Instead, it was empty except for the smoke and shadows
