The first thing Elena smelled was smoke.

It clawed its way into her lungs before she even saw the plume rising above the eastern district where one of Rossi's factories stood. By the time her car screeched into the lot, flames were already eating through the building, thick black smoke billowing into the sky.

Workers were running, shouting, coughing. Fire trucks screamed into the chaos, the acrid smoke clawing at her throat. The familiar red-and-gold Rossi crest at the factory gates was ...