The next night, it was almost eight pm when my phone lit up with a call. I picked my phone and glanced at the screen. It was a call from Francesco Russo.

I stared at the screen for a second longer than needed, as I debated internally whether to ignore it. But curiosity, and the fact that saying no to the biggest mafia leader in Milan wasn’t smart move. So, I picked up. “Hello.”

“I’ve sent you a location,” his voice came, direct like always. “Come over.”

I looked at the message ...