Lorenzo lit a cigarette with shaking hands. He leaned against a twisted metal container, trying not to look at the dead lined up by the pier. His jacket was torn, his arm bandaged hastily with a strip of cloth.

Every drag burned his lungs, but it kept his hands steady.

“Lorenzo.”

He looked up. Alessandro was walking toward him, his dark suit smeared with ash, his face unreadable. Two guards trailed behind him until he raised a hand, sending them away.

It was just the two of them now.

“You ...