Alessia Mancini
Giovanni's hand slid around my waist, his fingers mimicking my own as they grazed the edge of my holster. To an outsider, we might have looked like lovers sharing an intimate moment. But beneath the surface, we were both coiled and ready, our senses attuned to any potential threat.
Giovanni's lips brushed my forehead, the gentle caress at odds with the brutality unfolding before us. I inhaled his scent - sandalwood and spice, undercut with a metallic tang that might have been blood. When he spoke, his voice was a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.
"Still not talking, Lucia?" he asked, a dangerous smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
I met Lucia's defiant glare, forcing my features into a placid smile. "It'll hurt less if you do, sweetie," I cooed, my sacc
