The moment the convoy returned to the Valenti estate, the air inside the manor vibrated with tension. Guards moved in double-time. Voices murmured. Weapons shifted. A storm was coming — and everyone felt it. But none more than Adrian.
He stepped out of the SUV with Calla still in his arms — not carrying her, but keeping her pressed tightly against his side, as if the Council walls had not been enough to hold back his instincts.
He didn’t let go of her. Not inside the entrance and not in the grand hall. Not even when Lorenzo approached with a sharp bow.
“Don Valenti,” Lorenzo said. “We have him.”
Adrian’s grip tightened around Calla’s waist — a silent command for her to stay close.
“Where?” Adrian asked.
“The western holding room.”
“And Adrian… he’s not alone.”
Calla tensed. “Who
