The morning came slow, as if even the sun hesitated to rise over a city that had seen too much blood. Alexander woke before dawn, his body still sore from the previous night’s confrontation, his mind already dissecting the fragments of intelligence Victor had gathered.

He moved quietly so as not to wake Amelia. She slept in the half-light, her hand resting on the spot beside him as if to remind herself he was still there. That small gesture struck him harder than any bullet had. For a ...