The marble floor still bore the streaks of blood when Damian dragged Adriana through the hidden passageway.
She could barely walk. Her body trembled, her hands refused to unclench, and her eyes kept drifting back to the memory of Luca’s face—the shock, the pain, the betrayal. You shot me. The words echoed like a curse.
“Keep moving,” Damian ordered, his grip firm around her wrist. He didn’t slow, didn’t falter. He was steel forged in fire, while she was glass, cracking with every step.
They burst into the cold night, the Rossi estate behind them glowing with the orange haze of torches. Shouts echoed through the grounds—guards searching, orders barked, the chaos of betrayal spreading like wildfire.
Adriana stumbled, her breath ragged. “I—I can’t—”
Damian stopped so abruptly she crashed
