The villa was alive with quiet anticipation. Elena paced the grand hall, her heels clicking against the marble floor, a sharp rhythm that echoed the thoughts racing through her mind. Every corner, every shadow, every whisper of movement carried possibility — danger or opportunity.

Enzo appeared behind her, hand brushing her shoulder in a gesture meant to anchor her. “You’ve been restless all day,” he murmured, his voice low, almost intimate.

Elena stopped pacing and turned, eyes meeting his. “Restless doesn’t begin to cover it,” she admitted. “Our city is quiet for the moment, yes, but silence often precedes a storm.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You sense something?”

“I know...