The air in the Romano penthouse was thick with tension as Marco paced the living room, his footsteps heavy against the marble floors. The attack on their home had shaken him, but not in the way he expected. He’d been prepared for a fight, for the threats that came with his world. What unsettled him was how close they had come to losing it all.
Adriana, her face pale but steely, sat on the edge of the couch, her fingers playing with the edge of a glass of water. She wasn’t trembling anymore, but her eyes—those sharp eyes—told a different story. She was thinking, calculating, just like him.
“This won’t stop,” she said, breaking the silence that had settled between them.
Marco stopped pacing and turned to face her. “No, it won’t. Not until we finish it.”
“But how?” Adriana’s voice was a q
