The roar of the triple engines was a deafening scream against the backdrop of the silent, dark sea. Behind us, the Amalfi coast was no longer a postcard of twinkling lights; it was a jagged silhouette marked by the orange, pulsating glow of the Costa villa. My home for the last few weeks was being consumed by flames, and as I watched the smoke rise into the moonlight, I felt a strange, hollow ache in my chest.
It wasn't for the building. It was for the girl I had been before I walked through those iron gates.
"Stay low, Siena!" Luciano shouted over the wind.
He was standing at the helm, his feet planted wide as the boat jumped over the crest of a wave. The spray hit us both, cold and biting. I shivered, huddling deeper into his oversized suit jacket, but my mind wasn't on the cold. It w
