The firestorm had followed them into the night, the crackle of flames and the distant echo of gunfire haunting Adriana’s every step. By the time Damian dragged her into the abandoned safehouse on the outskirts of the city, her legs ached, her lungs burned, and her soul felt raw.
The heavy door slammed shut behind them, locking out the world. The silence was deafening.
Damian paced like a caged wolf, gun still in his hand, his shirt torn and smeared with soot. His eyes burned with the same fire that had consumed the Rossi estate. He turned sharply, his gaze spearing her.
“You slowed us down,” he growled.
Her chest clenched. “I was running for my life.”
“You were hesitating,” he snapped, stepping closer. “Second-guessing every move. That hesitation will get you killed—and me with you.”
