ANTONIO’S POV

Vital fluid. Fume. Disorder. Lia quakes in my hold, her breaths uneven. The intense odor of gunpowder hangs in the air, blending with the metallic taste of Marco’s blood. His body rests still on the icy concrete ground, a red puddle forming beneath him. The girl accomplished it. Innocent, naive little Lia just shot my right-hand man. I cast my eyes down at her, my hold constricting on her arm. Her large eyes fix on mine, but there’s something different in them. Not solely ...