The stairwell was a vertical tunnel of concrete and chaos. The first volley of gunfire from Marcella’s guards chewed into the ornate molding of the hallway, sending shards of plaster raining down like white ash. Alessandro didn't retreat; he surged backward into the stairwell, kicking the heavy fire door shut and bracing his shoulder against it as the first hail of bullets dented the steel from the other side.

I was a mess of grey wool and agony in his arms. The pain was no longer coming in ...