ALESSANDROTen days.Ten days of gray German skies and the bitter, metallic taste of cheap coffee and expensive scotch. Outside, the German rain lashed against the glass, but inside, the only sound was the amber liquid splashing into my glass.My injury was no longer just a wound. It had become a part of my anger, a constant, throbbing pulse that reminded me of the fire every time I moved.I had turned this city into a grid of checkpoints and paid informants, but the world remained stubbornly silent.Sierra was a ghost, and the only person who held the key to her haunting was the woman downstairs.I descended the stairs to the villa's cellar. I pushed open the heavy steel door, the hinges screaming in the silence.The twin sat in the center of the room, bolted to a wooden chair. Even in the dim, flickering light, the resemblance was agonizing. It was like looking at a shattered reflection of my own heart. But while Sierra’s eyes were filled with a soft, tragic light, this woman’s e
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