57
Alaric’s POV
The sun was setting when Allesio walked into my study, a grim expression on his face. He looked tired, like he’d been running on fumes, but there was a glint in his eyes that told me he’d found something worth all the effort.
“We’ve got a lead,” he said without preamble, dropping a crumpled piece of paper onto the desk in front of me.
I picked it up, smoothing out the wrinkles. It was an address scrawled in a hasty, almost frantic hand. I could picture the informant Allesio had likely cornered—desperate to save his own skin, stuttering out information in exchange for a chance to breathe another day.
“What’s this?” I asked, even though I already knew. My pulse quickened.
“An old safehouse,” Allesio explained. “Used to belong to one of your former associates before the
