Serafina’s POV
The fire followed us.
Even as we ran, even as the night swallowed us whole, I could still feel the heat of the explosion licking at my spine, hear the echo of men screaming, smell burning fuel and scorched earth clinging to my lungs.
The De Santis estate burned behind us like a wounded beast, roaring its fury into the sky.
But Luca De Santis was not dead.
I knew it the way you know when a storm hasn’t finished breaking when the air goes too still, too expectant.
“Keep moving,” Matteo said, breath rough, blood soaking through the sleeve of his jacket. He staggered once but caught himself, jaw clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might crack.
We plunged deeper into the trees, branches tearing at my dress, thorns ripping silk and skin alike. Vittorio led the way, his
