The air in Italy had grown heavier, the golden serenity that once blanketed the hills now shadowed by something far colder—an invisible pulse of dread that Enzo couldn’t shake. It wasn’t just instinct. It was experience. And Enzo had never been wrong when it came to danger.
The villa stood quiet under the late afternoon sun, birds chirping innocently, the marble tiles warmed underfoot. But even beauty had a heartbeat. And this place was pulsing with something off.
Amelia sat on the balcony, unaware. Her laughter from below—soft, melodic—carried upward as she tried to teach herself how to make espresso with the tiny stovetop pot she’d found. Her hair was tied in a loose bun, oversized shirt swallowing her frame. Her bare legs curled beneath her as she leaned forward over the kitchen islan
