Layla
Gunfire ripped through the night, a deafening roar that drowned out all else. Smoke hung heavy in the air, carrying with it the thick, metallic scent of blood so strong I could taste it on my tongue. Chaos reigned—men shouting, gunfire crackling, the wounded groaning as they lay bleeding on the mansion’s once-pristine grounds.
I had no idea how much time had passed since the siege had begun, but it had become my whole world.
I ducked behind a marble pillar as bullets chipped away at its surface, sending shards of stone flying. My pulse throbbed in my ears as I reloaded my pistol, the weight of it familiar, comforting, in my hands.
“Cover me!” Carlo shouted somewhere close by, and I leaned out around the pillar as he dove across the courtyard in search of better cover.
My pistol
