The villa was quiet, almost deceptively so. Elena moved through the halls with the practiced poise of a predator, her black leather boots barely making a sound against the marble floors. Her mind was a whirlwind of strategy, contingency plans, and the ever-present awareness that power carried enemies in every shadow.

Enzo followed close behind, a constant, protective presence. His eyes scanned the corridors, muscles coiled like a panther ready to strike. “You’ve been unusually quiet,” he murmured, his voice low, intimate.

“I’m thinking,” Elena replied, her gaze distant. “And thinking is dangerous if you don’t act.”

He smirked slightly, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed concern. “Even a...