Fallon
The mansion is filled with a heavy, suffocating silence; the only sounds are the distant ticking of a clock and the occasional drip of water somewhere in the pipes. The air reeks of blood, sweat, and the cold metal scent of gunpowder. It’s a silence that weighs heavily on my chest, making it difficult to breathe as I sit beside Milo, my hands shaking as I press a cloth to his injuries.
He’s hurt, but he’s alive. The medical team Vittorio brought in has done their job, cleaning and stitching up the worst of his wounds. Still, the sight of him—bruised and battered, his face swollen, his lip split—makes my heart clench painfully in my chest.
Leone is pacing the room like a caged animal, his face a mask of barely contained fury. His jaw is tight, his fists clenched at his sides. He h
