(VALENTINO'S POV)
I keep replaying the last hour in my head, like my mind refuses to accept that we're somehow still breathing. We barely managed to pull it off. If Leo hadn't dragged himself behind that marble pillar when he did, if I hadn't gotten to Krystal in time… no. I don't want to finish that thought.
My compound looks like a slaughterhouse, bodies of my own men mixed with the masked idiots sent by God knows who. Blood smeared across the stone walkway and dried in streaks on the walls. The air still smells like gunpowder and tastes like smoke.
And somehow, the night doesn't seem to be done with me yet.
I sit on the couch in my living room with Krystal pressed into my side as if her body is trying to hide inside mine. I can feel her tension, the way she keeps her arms close, as if she was holding herself together from the inside. Leo sits across from us, hissing through gritted teeth while Sandra stitches up the bullet wound in his arm.
