Farewell in the Crossfire
The private jet touched down in Solverno well past midnight. Behind me, an explosion rattled the terminal windows hard enough to make the glass shudder.
Three days earlier, my husband, Damiano Salvato, had flown to Solverno to negotiate a deal. The city was now caught in crossfire, and his phone did not connect no matter how many times I tried.
I dialed his Underboss, Enzo Conti, with shaking hands. The line rang for a long time before he picked up.
His voice sounded strained. "Y-You're really in Solverno right now?"
Another explosion hit, and the panic in my chest tightened another notch. "Where is Damiano? Which zone is he in?"
The line went quiet for a moment before Enzo answered, al