I stared at Damiano.
“The secret is about me?”
He nodded.
For some reason, those words frightened me more than everything else we’d discovered that night.
Not Rafael.
Not Amelia.
Not Matteo.
Me.
“What does that mean?”
“We don’t know yet.”
I shook my head.
“Then let’s find out.”
Damiano looked at Amelia.
“Can you walk?”
She nodded.
“Then we’re leaving.”
His brother’s old friend stepped toward him.
“What about the recording?”
“We’re taking it with us.”
The man hesitated.
“There’s something else.”
Damiano turned.
“What?”
“The room beneath Gabriel Moretti’s apartment wasn’t empty.”
My heart tightened.
“What was there?”
“A box.”
“What kind?”
“Metal. Locked.”
Damiano’s eyes narrowed.
“Did you open it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because there was a note attached.”
He pulled
