Salvatore's Ruin
Thirty years after Vienna, Luca sat in the garden writing the final pages of what would become his last book—not about trafficking this time, but about recovery itself, about what it meant to build an entire life on the other side of catastrophe.
Dante, seventy-one now, sat across from him doing crossword puzzles with the same focused intensity he'd once brought to running a criminal empire.
"Seven letters," Dante said. "Lasting beyond expectation."
"Survival," Luca offered.
"Doesn't fit. S-U-R-V-I-V-A-L is eight letters."
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