The moment stretched thin between instinct and impact, and Alessandro did not wait for confirmation, for reason, for proof, because something far older than thought had already taken hold of his body, had already pulled him backward, twisting, shifting, forcing him out of the path of something unseen yet certain.
The gunshot tore through the night.
Sharp.
Violent.
Unforgiving.
Stone shattered where his head had been a breath before, fragments scattering across the alley as Alessandro landed hard against the ground, his palm scraping rough concrete, his breath leaving him in a controlled burst as his muscles tightened, coiled, ready.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his voice low though edged with irritation, his eyes already lifting, already searching, already locking onto the rooftop above where the threat had come from.
