The next morning, the rain continued, drumming on the roofs in Trento. In the aftermath of the chaos of the previous night, the city was eerily quiet, almost as if holding its breath. The shipping yard had become a crime scene, and Isabella’s arrest the top story in every local newspaper. To the public, the war was over, but the Romanos knew otherwise.
In a remote villa on the outskirts of the city one of their lesser-known safe houses Luca, Sofia and Marco convened with their remaining lieutenants. There was silence, the silence of those who had lost a recent battle.
At the head of the table was Luca, his arm bandaged from the tussle with Isabella. “We have won a battle, but not the war. Isabella’s in custody, but the Scarlattis have no intention of backing off. They’ve lost dignity, an
