Flavia watched from the shadows as a firing squad raised their rifles. She screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the echo of her own voice from the opera—the high C of a woman who had loved, killed, and lost everything.
Flavia’s hand trembled. She thought of the stage, of the high parapet at the Castel Sant’Angelo where Tosca leaps to her death. But this was not opera. There was no orchestra to cue a last-minute rescue. Flavia watched from the shadows as a firing
“Because he suspects you hide Angiolotti, the escaped consul.” Luca’s jaw tightened. “And because he wants you.” Flavia watched from the shadows as a firing
She took the safe-conduct and fled.