The silence between us stretched deep into the night.
Valentina hadn’t moved in hours. She sat curled on the corner of the couch, eyes locked on the stack of tapes from the basement. Each one a fragment of the life Donata had tried to orchestrate, control, manipulate. And now we had them all.
I stood near the window, watching the dim Sicilian skyline. The safehouse was secure triple-checked by Enzo’s men but my nerves refused to settle. Because for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t worried about bullets or betrayal.
I was worried about her.
“What if I can’t unsee it?” Valentina’s voice was raw. “What if I listen and become just like her?”
“You won’t,” I said, crossing the room. “You already chose a different path.”
She looked up at me, eyes rimmed with fire. “Did I?”
“Yes.” I
