They did not move aside when Matteo approached.

“Move,” Matteo said.

“Gianni said to wait for him,” the guard on the left replied.

Matteo did not hesitate.

He pulled his weapon from his jacket and fired.

The sound was deafening in the narrow stone corridor.

The guard fell instantly, clutching his chest.

The second guard lunged forward, but Matteo grabbed him by the throat and slammed his head against the stone wall.

The man went limp and slid to the floor.

I let out a gasp, covering my mouth.

Matteo turned to me, his face pale under the dim yellow corridor lights.

“They are going to kill us both,” he said, his voice a tense whisper.

“What?” I asked, my mind spinning.

“Gianni set this up,” Matteo said, grabbing my wrist again. “The servant is his. The poison was his.”

He pulled me toward a small arched side exit, away from the basement stairs.

“If we stay here, we die,” he said.

Behind us, the dining room doors burst open, and the sound of shouting voices echoed down the hall.

We ran through the heavy rain-slicked courtyard.