The night was a mess of noise.
I bolted to my window, heart hammering, and yanked it open. The cool night air rushed in, but the chill in my bones had nothing to do with the wind.
Shouts resounded from outside, mixing with running footsteps crunching against the gravel. My gaze darted toward the commotion, and my jaw slacked at what I saw.
There were men. At least five of them. Their uniforms were unmistakable; Don Diego's patrol team. They were running toward our villa like hellhounds were nipping at their heels.
What the…?
I had never seen them move like that. My father's soldiers were as stiff and expressionless as statues, trained to be silent shadows. They weren't the type to go running and yelling like their tails were on fire. Something was wrong.
I didn't think. My feet moved before my mind could convince me to stick to my room and bury myself under my sheets like the coward that I was.
