The *Erebus* was less a yacht and more a sovereign nation of steel and glass, gliding silently through the dark Mediterranean waters. It was a monument to untouchable power, and as my launch approached, I felt a familiar, unwelcome tightening in my gut. It was the feeling of being a guest in a place where I was not the most dangerous man in the room. I hated it.
My shoulder still ached, a deep, persistent throb that the finest silk of my suit couldn't soothe. The infection had subsided, but a weakness lingered, a constant reminder of my vulnerability, of my idiotic miscalculation. Every twinge was a whisper of Elara's name. Marco’s search had so far yielded nothing but dead ends and frightened denials. It was as if she had been erased from the city’s memory, a ghost who left behind only t
