The night exploded in chaos.

Bullets cut through the air like angry sparks, ricocheting off the stone walls of the old villa. Dante’s instincts kicked in before his mind even caught up—he grabbed Isabella’s wrist and yanked her behind the overturned table, pressing her body tight to his as gunfire erupted around them.

“Stay down!” he barked, voice hoarse but steady, his body shielding hers completely.

Her breath came in trembling gasps against his chest, her fingers digging into his arm as the world around them burned and shattered. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of fear.

“Dante,” she whispered, voice trembling. “How...