The echoes of the gunshot still lingered like thunder across the Moretti estate. Guests screamed and ducked, crystal goblets shattering against marble floors, the air filled with the acrid scent of gunpowder. Guards surged into formation, their shouts mingling with the frantic music that had screeched to a halt.
But on the balcony, silence reigned.
Damian’s body moved before his mind did, shoving Isabella behind him and positioning himself between Adriana and the chaos spilling in from the hall. His wolf was awake now, a beast in his veins, his senses sharpened to steel.
“Stay close,” he ordered, his voice low and dangerous. His eyes flicked once toward Adriana—raw, fierce, pleading—but before she could answer, the shadows stirred.
---
A masked figure vaulted over the railing, landing
