The afternoon passed surprisingly quietly, but it wasn’t the suffocating silence that had clung to the corners of the room for days like a dark shadow. This was different. Lighter. Clear, like the warm breeze that occasionally fluttered the curtains. Something had shifted. Something was slowly being rebuilt.
Lucian—the infamous mafia boss—stood now without his jacket, in rolled-up shirt sleeves, a pair of scissors in hand, in front of one of the larger boxes, preparing to open it. His expression was focused, yet at the corner of his mouth lingered something unusual. A hard-to-read look he might not even recognize himself: satisfaction.
Andromeda was directing the process from the bed. Her hair was up in a loose bun, a faint flush on her cheeks from laughter and excitement. She’d pulled t
