WORRIED ABOUT HIM

ARYA’S POV The moment I stepped through the villa's entrance, I knew something was terribly wrong. About three guards rushed past me without acknowledgment, their faces tense. The sharp metallic scent of blood hung in the air, mixing with antiseptic and my heart jumped into my throat. I followed the commotion toward the living room, my feet moving before my brain had fully processed what was happening. The scene that greeted me made me freeze in the doorway. Giovanni was sprawled on the leather couch, his white shirt soaked through with blood on the left side. A man I didn't recognize was bent over him, working frantically at his shoulder while Giovanni lay unconscious. Around them, some guards were barking orders into phones, others checking weapons, and one pressing gauze to what looked like a bullet wound. A bullet wound!? Did that mean that Giovanni was shot? Part of me wanted to go upstairs, close my door, and let him deal with the consequences of whatever violence he had in