Chapter 37. The Interception

They almost made it.

The night air hit Margherita’s bare shoulders as they stepped outside, the hum of the party fading behind them. Ezio’s hand tightened around hers, guiding her down the marble steps toward the waiting car. Dario’s voice murmured faintly in his earpiece, the sound of engines, the promise of escape—

Then everything stopped.

Two men stepped out of the shadows by the drive, guns drawn—silent, professional.

Margherita froze.

Before she could even gasp, two more emerged from the opposite side. Their movements were sharp, practiced. The cold gleam of steel reflected in the car’s polished door.

Ezio’s arm came up instinctively, pulling her behind him, his other hand slipping toward his jacket. But the barrels were already leveled at them.

And then came the voice.

“Margherita.”

It was soft. Too soft. And it sliced through her like a blade.

Simona stood by the sleek black car at the end of the path, framed by the