James O. Miller - Historical Fiction

https://theoviebooks.wordpress.com/ The night was a restless thing, swirling with the scent of salt and smoke. A low wind tugged at the olive branches outside the villa, carrying faint echoes of distant gunfire and the low, ominous growl of thunder rolling over the hills. Somewhere in the darkness, the Mediterranean sea crashed against the cliffs like a warning. Inside, the air was heavy with dust and secrets. A single candle flickered on a battered table, casting long, jittery shadows on the