Lorenzo's POV

I sit slouched low in the driver’s seat, parked around the corner and down the street, shadows swallowing the sleek black of my car as I watch through the windshield. My eyes track two large men—towering bastards with thick necks and wide backs—hauling boxes across Brittany’s grandma’s lawn under the dim yellow porch light. Their heavy boots crunch against gravel as they load up the back of a wide-moving van. The silence of night amplifies every muted ...