"What's wrong, Dad? Do you know this place?"
His mouth opened. No sound came out.
Then my mother caught up. She took one look at the villa, swallowed hard, and when she turned to me, her face was ashen.
"Donnie, let's go home."
"Stop looking into this."
I stared at her. "What?"
"Mom, you're the one who said we had to come. You were the most fired up. You said we had to catch them red-handed."
"They're inside that villa right now. Why are you suddenly telling me to drop it?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she grabbed my arm, her voice cracking, halfway to tears.
"Donnie, I'm begging you. Please. Let's just go home."
"Let this go. Please."
My father stepped forward, his face grave.
"Donnie, listen to your mother. Let's go back."
"We're doing this for your own good."
I was completely stunned.
I couldn't make sense of it. Just moments ago, my parents had been ready to storm in and fight for me. Now, after one look at this villa, they'd become entirely different people.
Was it the villa itself that was wrong?
Or was it the person inside?
Curiosity burned through me, thick and impossible to ignore. I shoved past my parents' protests, charged up to the front door, and knocked.