Rain slicked the ancient stones of Kotor’s old town, turning the narrow alleys into rivers of shadow and echo. She moved like a ghost between them—limping, breath shallow, one hand pressed hard against her side where the bullet had torn through flesh. Blood oozed between her fingers, hot and frighteningly steady.

Right from the start, Hila Zaidi had had a gut feeling this mission could end badly. She’d felt it in her gut before she boarded the flight from Jamaica, where she’d ...