He looked back at the dog. Its eyes were fixed on the front door now, body tense.
"Yeah," Luca muttered under his breath. "You feel it too, don't you."
His hand slipped under his jacket, resting where his weapon was. He had learned a long time ago to trust his instincts, especially when they came uninvited. Fear did not appear without reason. Dogs knew things. They smelled danger long before humans did. They heard what others ignored.
Luca took a step toward the house, then another. The dog whined softly, pacing, glancing between him and the door.
He put his hand on his gun and walked toward the front door. He knocked lightly. "Vee?"
He opened the door slowly, the hinges groaning in protest, and drew his gun. "Veronica?" Still nothing.
"Vito?" No answer. The familiar unease that had been gnawing at him coiled tighter in his chest. He moved inside cautiously, scanning every corner, every shadow.
