Three years later.The aircraft cruised steadily above the Atlantic, the last streaks of sunset fading beneath the wings.As the cabin temperature dropped, a familiar chill seeped into my sleeve.The bones had healed. Mostly. But every storm still settled deep inside them, leaving behind a dull ache that never truly disappeared.Three years ago, after the attack, I accepted an invitation I had once turned down: The Romano Family’s Consigliere in Sicily. Don Romano was the shadow Mafia of Europe.They had been recruiting me long before my life fell apart, but back then, I had refused.I was protective of my sister, committed to the Moretti family, and deeply in love with the man by my side. Turns out, every single one of them failed me. So I took the offer.The three years that followed became brutally simple: training and rehabilitation. My days belonged to the Romano Family; my nights belonged to physical therapy. I refused to break. I had spent my entire life becoming the best, and
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