Marcus stepped out first.

His hair was damp from the rain, clinging to his forehead.

His eyes instantly locked onto me, burning with a mixture of rage and triumph.

Two uniformed police officers followed him, looking uncomfortable but determined.

Behind them walked Enzo, the capo, his hands casually shoved into his pockets.

“Arya,” Marcus said, taking a step toward us.

“Step back, Marcus,” Damiano said, his voice quiet but carrying a terrifying weight.

“You are trespassing in my home.”

“I’m here for my property,” Marcus said, gesturing toward me.

“She stole confidential files from my office.”

“And she is a fugitive.”

The officers shifted their weight, looking at Damiano.

“We have a report of a theft, Mr. Ricci,” one of the officers said.

“We just need to ask the lady a few questions.”

Damiano took a step forward, shielding me slightly with his body.

“My fiancée does not answer questions without her legal counsel present,” Damiano said.

The room went dead silent.

Marcus froze, his eyes widening.

“Your what?” Marcus hissed.

“My fiancée,” Damiano repeated, his voice smooth and steady.

“Arya and I have been together for months.”