The metallic screech of the warehouse’s outer security perimeter being torn apart echoed through the hollow rafters like a death knell. Lorenzo didn't hesitate; despite the fresh blood seeping through the hasty thigh bandage Elena had applied, his hand instantly dropped to the tactical holster at his hip. His pitch-black eyes snapped to Dante, silently calculating their abysmal odds. They were outmanned, outgunned, and running entirely on the fumes of fading adrenaline.
Elena’s heart leaped into her throat, her fingers instinctively curling tighter around the cold, heavy gold of the Alighieri signet ring resting on her finger. It felt like a target painted directly onto her flesh. She looked at Dante, expecting him to order them into the hidden ventilation shafts or toward the secondary e
