[Elena's POV]

A second scream tore through the garden hedges.

My mom jumped. She gripped the edge of the stone table, her knuckles turning white. The color drained from her face.

She stared at the dark archway leading to the perimeter wall.

Marco picked up his wine glass with his good hand. He took a sip. He didn't spill a drop.

Don Viti leaned back in his tiger-skin chair and waved a hand at the kitchen staff.

"Bring the cannoli," Don Viti ordered. He pointed his silver cane at my empty ...