ELENA’S POV
The apartment slowly empties of movement.
Giovanni steps into the hallway to take calls. Alessandro moves toward the window, already issuing quiet orders in Italian that sound sharp and urgent.
Men begin to move in the background. Phones ringing. Doors opening and closing.
A war is starting.
But I can’t focus on any of it.
All I can see is the small shoe sitting on the table.
Luca’s shoe.
The room feels too large suddenly. Too quiet.
My chest tightens until breathing becomes work.
“He was right here,” I whisper.
My voice sounds far away, like it belongs to someone else.
“I left him right here.”
Dante is standing near the table, still watching the room like he’s memorizing every detail.
He hears me immediately.
“He didn’t disappear because of you.”
His voice is c
