The stench of diesel fuel and fresh fear had replaced the acrid smell of death in the Falco’s hold. I was back in the command cabin, the small, circular space serving as the epicenter of a war that spanned the entire Mediterranean. Vasily’s betrayal was an ice shard now, painful, but perfectly lodged, giving me clarity. I knew the rules of the ambush. I knew the cost of the ransom. Now, I needed the final battlefield.

Ivan and Alexander were hunched over the main tactical map, their heads ...