Alessia Mancini
I could feel Giovanni's blood seeping through my fingers as I pressed against his wound, warm and sticky. The metallic scent filled my nostrils, mingling with the lingering gunpowder in the air. My heart raced, but I forced my voice to remain steady.
"Tell me about our next vacation, mio leone," I urged, desperate to keep him talking. "Where will you take me when this is all over?"
Giovanni's eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, were hazy with pain. But a ghost of a smile played at his lips. "Amalfi Coast," he murmured. "A villa overlooking the sea. Just you and me."
I nodded, blinking back tears. "That sounds perfect. What else?"
"Boat rides at sunset," he continued, his voice growing fainter. "Wine on the terrace. Making love under the stars."
My throat tightened
