Serena:
That night, I closed my eyes and drifted in a place that wasn’t rest—just silence and darkness. My fingers still twitched from the memory of the gun. From the sound of bones breaking. From the way Matteo bled.
They didn't flinch, so I couldn’t flinch either.
But I wasn’t okay.
I don’t think any of us were.
When morning came again, it wasn’t soft. It clawed through the metal shutters and settled like smoke inside the safehouse.
The air was thicker now. Tighter.
We’d all been holding our breath since the butcher shop, and no one knew how to let go.
Matteo was already at the table with blueprints and burner phones spread out like offerings. He looked like hell—bruised, stitched, and unbothered. His coffee sat untouched, going cold beside his blade.
Luca was back in his usual
