Cesare had a way of making his exits feel like beginnings.
The black sedan slid through the city like a shadow, the man inside leaning back in his seat, eyes fixed on the wet glimmer of the streets. He wasn’t just replaying his conversation with Emilia- he was dissecting it. Every pause, every measured syllable, every flicker of her gaze.
And Rafael.
Always there. Always too close.
“Dig into him,” Cesare said suddenly.
The driver glanced at him in the rearview. “Rafael?”
“I want to know what he was before he was hers. Where he came from, what debts he’s owed, and who might want him buried.”
The driver nodded and made a quick call in a language Cesare didn’t bother to follow. The message was clear enough- surveil, track, peel him apart.
Cesare didn’t believe in coincidences. An amb
