The villa was too quiet. Too still. Even the sea outside seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for something to crack. Amara stood by the window, her reflection ghosting the glass. The early dawn painted her in soft gold, but her eyes were hollow—shadows that no light could fill. Behind her, the faint hum of Luca’s movements echoed, methodical and deliberate. The sound of a man trying to keep control when everything else had already burned. He had always been fire—fierce, destructive, untouchable. But this morning, he looked like ash. “You didn’t sleep,” Amara murmured without turning. “I couldn’t,” Luca said quietly. His voice carried that old gravel—rough, restrained, dangerous. But beneath it was something else. Something broken. Amara turned then. He stood by the table, shirt unbuttoned halfway, scars catching the dim light. His gun was beside his hand, but his eyes weren’t on it. They were on her. “Every time I close my eyes,” he said, “I see him.” Amara knew who he me
Last Updated : 2025-10-30 Read more