Vicenzo POV

The night was calm—too calm for my liking.

I leaned back against the railing of the veranda, the city lights stretching endlessly beneath me, my fingers rolling a Backwood between them before lighting it up. The first drag burned slow and heavy down my throat, grounding me. Smoke curled into the air, thick and familiar, clinging to my skin like a second layer.

Shipment issues. Delays. Missing containers.

Too many small fires at once.

I exhaled sharply, watching the smoke ...