(Luca)
The drive back to the mansion felt too quiet.
The men were silent in the car—out of respect, or fear, or both. Blood still clung under my fingernails despite how many times I’d wiped my hands. The metallic scent clung to my clothes, my skin, the air around me. Execution always did that. It lingered.
The moment the car rolled through the gates, the guards straightened, avoiding my gaze. Good. Fear kept men loyal.
I stepped out, jaw tight, muscles aching in a way that no gunfight ever caused. This kind of ache—this tight coil inside my chest—was a different enemy.
Aria.
Without wanting to, my mind flicked back to her. The look in her eyes when she stood in front of me earlier. The defiance. The softness she tried so hard to bury. The fear she thought she hid well. Every expressi
