(VALENTINO'S POV)
The moment I hit the bottom of the stairs, the entire villa shakes with another burst of gunfire. It's sharp, close, too close, echoing off the stone walls like the house itself is flinching. I sprint across the foyer, shove the door open, and run straight into chaos.
The air outside is thick with gunpowder and dust. My ears ring, my heartbeat pounding so hard it feels like it's syncing with every shot fired. I duck behind the nearest thing I can find—a massive flower bush—and hit the ground just as rounds chew through the petals above my head.
I raise one of my gold pistols, aim through the leaves, and fire twice. Two masked men drop instantly, collapsing into the gravel like puppets with their strings cut.
What the fuck?
My eyes track the courtyard in a split second sweep. The place looks like a war zone. My men are scattered, taking cover behind fountains, pillars, cars—anything that can hold weight. But they're getting overwhelmed. And fast.
