Serena:
The first scream wasn’t a scream at all.
It was a thud.
A sickening, wet sound snapped through the trees like a bone cracking in the dark.
Then—another. A grunt. A curse.
And Nico’s voice, hoarse and furious—“Get the f.u.c.k off me!”
I didn’t remember running.
Just the blur of trees. The rasp of my breath. The way Luca and Matteo moved like shadows beside me, silent and lethal.
But my pulse? Deafening.
We broke through the brush just as the third man slammed his fist into Nico’s ribs. He hit the ground hard, face already bloody, his arms pinned behind him by two others.
The Moretti crest glinted on one of their sleeves.
“No!” I shouted, my voice ripping free before I could stop it.
They didn’t look up.
Didn’t stop.
The one in front drew back again, knuckles bloodied.
