Luca stood in the orange glow of the burning warehouse like a demon stepped out of hell. His clothes were immaculate. His hair was perfectly in place, not a single scratch marred him.
Isabella felt her world collapse. Again.
The warehouse behind him hissed and cracked as flames filled the sky. The air stank of smoke and gasoline, coating her tongue with something bitter.
"Hello, brother," Luca called, his voice smooth but loud across the empty lot. "Right on time."
Matteo stepped in front of her, his body tense. His hand slid to his gun, the leather of the holster creaking in the silence. "Where are they, Luca?" Matteo asked, his tone sharp.
"Safe. For now." Luca's smile curled cruelly, the firelight turning his expression into something inhuman. "But that could change quickly."
