Chapter 11 - The Shadow of Palermo
The private jet touched down on the tarmac in Palermo under a blanket of heavy Sicilian heat. Sophia Bellini, now nineteen and holding the title of Chief Strategic Officer of the Moretti Syndicate, stepped out into the blinding sunlight with the cold, measured poise of a veteran commander. Rocco Moretti remained behind in Milan to manage the European council, leaving her to handle the Sicilian resistance firsthand.
"The Savino loyalists are holed up in the coastal villa," whispered Mateo, a grizzled captain who had survived three separate turf wars under Rocco. "They have heavy artillery and hostages. If we storm the gates, blood will flood the courtyard."
Sophia didn't blink. She adjusted the collar of her obsidian suit, her eyes scanning the topographical maps spread across the hood of the armored SUV. "We aren't storming the gates, Mateo. We are cutting off their oxygen."
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She pulled out a secure tablet, her fingers dancing across the screen with surgical precision. Within seconds, the encrypted satellite override she had engineered bypassed every security node within a fifty-mile radius. The villa’s backup generators sputtered, died, and plunged the compound into pitch blackness in broad daylight.
"Move in," Sophia commanded softly. "Take no unnecessary lives, but leave no doubt who owns this coast."
