Chapter 48
The doorbell’s echo died fast, but the silence it left behind was worse. Thick. Electric. Like the house itself was holding its breath.
Matteo was already moving—gun in hand, bare feet silent on the hardwood. Luca grabbed his pants from the floor and yanked them on in one motion. Nico stayed with me, one arm around my waist, the other reaching for the pistol on the dresser. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. The positive test still sat on the nightstand like a trophy, two dark lines staring back at me. My hand drifted to my stomach on instinct. Flat for now. But not empty.
Matteo cracked the front door just enough. Dario stood on the porch—same leather jacket, same serpent tattoo curling up his neck, same cocky tilt to his mouth. But his eyes were different today. Sharper. Hungrier.
