Cuco’s pov;
Diego walked half a step ahead of me, his posture relaxed, hands clasped behind his back like a soldier escorting a dignitary instead of a recruit.
Or a prisoner….
I wasn’t a fool to mistake this for generosity.
“Nice place,” I said casually, breaking the silence.
“Mm,” he grunted in response without looking at me.
The hallway was lined with framed photographs. Men with dragon tattoos, gold chains. A huge photograph of Maldini exchanging handshakes with men. Some I recognized, others I didn’t.
“You’ve been with him for long?” I asked again, wanting him to speak so I could try to match the voice with the man in the mask.
“Long enough.”
I needed him to kerp speaking. “How long?”
We turned around a corner and as he moved closer to open a door. My mind replayed the night
