The convoy rolled out of the De Vitalio estate just as dusk began to bleed into the horizon. The sky hung low and heavy, streaked with faint shades of crimson as though painted in warning. Engines hummed in unison, black-tinted cars weaving down the long stone drive like a procession of predators heading to the hunt.

Amira sat stiffly in the leather backseat of the lead car. Beside her, Montez leaned against the corner of the seat, sharp in his dark suit, though the composure of ...