Valentina POV
The knocking started three minutes after the second text.
It wasn't a panic-driven bang or the polite tap of an art dealer bringing late-night flowers. It was three deliberate, muted thuds that sounded like someone testing the weight of a wooden door before kicking it off its hinges.
Sofia’s hand went instantly to the small, concealed holster beneath her jacket. "Valentina. Don't."
I didn't listen. The rage from the anteroom, combined with the ice-cold terror from that single sentence on my screen, had burned through whatever caution I had left. I crossed the ruined floor, stepping over shards of glass and red wine stains, and pulled the door open.
Renzo stood in the hall.
He’d taken off his jacket. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled twice up h
