The Wrong Kind Of Right
Just lay there, staring at the orange inferno as the roof caved in, the building that had been Paolo’s grave and nearly theirs reduced to rubble and flame.
Rhea rolled to her knees, coughing, bruised but alive. Her eyes locked on the blaze, her voice low and furious. “He slipped us again.”
Julian dragged in a rattling breath, every muscle trembling. “Not… forever.” He spat blood into the dirt, eyes narrowing even as the fire painted his face in hellish light. “He thinks he’s untouchable… but he just made one mistake.”
Rhea glanced at him, brow furrowed. “What mistake?”
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