Alessia
The night air bit at my skin through the fabric of my black hoodie. My breath fogged slightly in the cold as I crouched beside the side gate of the estate I used to call home. Now, it reeked of Dante, his arrogance, his deception, his lies. I'd been tracking his movements for days. Tonight, he was in Milan for a show.
Perfect.
I slipped through the garden I once played in, my boots silent against the gravel. Everything felt alien now, the roses had been replaced with thorny shrubs, the lights were harsher, and the air carried a foreign scent of tobacco and expensive cologne. I moved quickly, every step practiced, every breath calculated. I was wearing all black, down to the gloves and mask. The shadows were mine tonight.
