THIRTY-FOUR
The night air was thick with tension, the weight of impending violence pressing down on Camilla as she stepped out of the car. Her heels clicked softly against the gravel driveway, each step deliberate, calculated. The house in front of her loomed in the darkness, its structure once grand but now reduced to a hollowed-out shell of its former glory. This was the meeting place. The abandoned estate was eerily quiet, save for the distant chirping of crickets. It should have been lifeless. Yet, a sleek black car sat parked out front. Aleks was here. Camilla's pulse remained steady despite the danger. She knew she wasn't truly alone. Hidden in the shadows beyond the reach of the dim streetlamp, Francesco's men were stationed, watching, waiting. They were ghosts in the night—silent protector
- Writer
