Amira could feel the shift in the air the moment they stepped inside the mansion. It wasn’t just the smell of blood that clung to Leonardo’s shirt or the stiff way he carried himself—it was something deeper. Something unspoken.

He hadn’t said a word on the drive back. His jaw had been locked tight, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. And even now, as he disappeared into the shadows of the corridor without sparing her a glance, Amira stood frozen in the grand foyer, her heart thudding with unanswered questions.

She hated the worry blooming in her chest.

"Ma'am," Matteo, one of Leonardo's trusted guards, stepped forward awkwardly. "Mr....