Salvatore's POV
The iron gates groaned open, the sound echoing off the stone walls like a heavy sigh.
They recognized the car, and more importantly, they recognized the driver.
The guards on the perimeter didn't challenge me; they simply waved us through, their faces illuminated by the sweep of the headlights, looking tired and relieved to see the boss's son return in one piece.
We crunched over the gravel, the long driveway winding uphill through cypress trees that stood like black sentinels against the sky. The house came into view slowly, a massive, sprawling structure of limestone and terracotta that had stood here for four centuries. It wasn't just a home; it was a statement. It was the Esposito fortress.
To the left, the stables were dark. To the right, the guest wing was a cavernous mouth of shadow. We pulled around to the main entrance, the tires crunching softly on the gravel, the only sound in the heavy stillness of the mountains.
I killed the engine.
