THE WITNESS

CHAPTER_FOUR

BURNT BREAD



Elena didn't sleep. She lay on top of the covers in borrowed pajamas and stared at the ceiling, replaying the same few seconds until they wore smooth: a door, a dark stain, a man saying her name.

When the lock finally turned, gray light was already creeping across the garden. Rosa came in with a tray, took one look at her face, and sighed.

"You did not sleep," she said.

"I wasn't tired."

"Liar." Rosa set down eggs, bread, a bowl of figs, and coffee strong enough to stand a spoon in. "Eat. A frightened person who does not eat becomes a careless person, and carelessness is expensive in this house."

Elena forced down a few bites. She was still chewing when Dante appeared in the doorway, freshly shaved and immaculate, as though last night were a bad dream only she remembered. Teo stood behind him with his arms crossed, looking like he hadn't slept either.

"Your five minutes," Dante said, holding up her phone. "Speaker only. Teo and I will be here. You won't say where you are, who you're with, or anything that frightens him."

"And if he asks?"

"Then be convincing."

The screen showed seven missed calls. Elena's thumb hovered over her brother's name, and for a moment she couldn't remember how to breathe. Then she pressed it. The phone didn't even finish one ring.

"Lena? Lena! Where are you? I've called, like, a hundred times—"

"Marco, calm down. I'm fine."

"You're fine?" His voice cracked. "You texted me at three in the morning and called me 'baby brother.' You have never once called me that. You know I hate it."

Elena closed her eyes. She had chosen those words on purpose, the only rebellion she'd dared with Dante watching. Across the room, his eyes narrowed.

"I was tired," she said lightly. "I was being sweet. Is that a crime?"

"Lena." His voice dropped, careful now. "Where are you?"

"At work. Double shift."

"No, you're not. I'm standing in the lobby of the Aurelian right now, and the girl at the desk says you never clocked out."

Teo muttered something low and foul. Dante raised one hand, silencing him, and kept his eyes on Elena. Let it run, the gesture said. Let's see what you do.

Her mind raced. If she begged, Marco would call the police, and Dante would end the call. If she lied badly, Marco would never stop digging. She needed something only he would understand.

"Marco, go home," she said. "Please. I'm busy, that's all. I'll be at Sunday dinner. Make the pasta, and don't forget the bread. The burnt kind, the way Nonna made it."

Silence stretched down the line. Elena held her breath.

When they were kids, and things went wrong at home, burnt bread had meant one thing: pretend everything is fine, and trust me. Marco had been nine the first time she'd said it. He had never forgotten.

"Burnt bread," Marco said at last. His voice had changed, gone flat and careful. "Got it. Sunday."

"Sunday," she whispered. "I love you."

The line went dead.

For a moment, nobody spoke. Elena set the phone down on the tray, very gently, as if it might bite.

"Burnt bread," Dante said. "What is it?"

"Bread. My grandmother's."

"Your brother's voice changed when you said it."

"He's tired. He's been up all night, worrying."

"He's smart," Dante said. "That's worse." He studied her for a long moment, and she understood he had just worked out the text message too. Something that was not quite anger crossed his face. "You played me, Elena."

"I kept my side of the deal," she said, with more courage than she felt. "I didn't say where I was. I didn't frighten him."

"No." The corner of his mouth moved. "You told him to be careful."

"He's in the lobby of the Aurelian," Teo cut in. "Cameras, staff, and whoever else is watching that building. Dante, if he's seen with her name on his lips—"

"I know." Dante was already pulling out his own phone. "Get him out of there, quietly. Take Luca."

"I'll go myself."

"No. You stay with her."

Teo's jaw flexed. For half a second he looked as though he would argue. Then he nodded once and stepped to the window, his back to the room.

Elena stood very still. Her heart was pounding, and she hated the small, treacherous warmth that rose in her chest at Dante's I know. He had not shouted. He had not even raised his voice. He had simply started fixing it.

Dante did not send her back upstairs. Instead he led her down a corridor to a study lined with books, where a fire burned low in the grate, and poured two cups of coffee without asking how she took it.

They waited. Teo stood guard outside the door, and the clock on the mantel ticked like a slow heartbeat.

"He's studying to be a doctor," Elena said, because the silence was unbearable. "Emergency medicine. He says he likes chaos."

"Does he get that from you?"

"He gets it from the fact that I raised him." She stared into her cup. "Our mother died when he was fifteen. I was twenty. Somebody had to keep him in school."

"That is why you work nights."

"That's why I work everything."

Dante said nothing for a while. When he spoke, it was to the fire. "I buried my father at eighteen. Nobody asked me if I was ready."

It was the first thing he had said that wasn't an order, a threat, or a deal. Elena looked at him, really looked, and for the first time saw the boy from the photograph, squinting into the golden light, with a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she said, and was surprised to find she meant it.

"Don't be." His gaze met hers. "Just don't ever mistake me for a good man, Elena. It will end badly for you."

Silence settled again. She closed her eyes and tried once more: the dark room, Carlo's lips moving, a name with two syllables, maybe three. It slid away every time, like a fish in dark water.

"Anything?" Dante asked.

"Not yet."

He nodded as though he'd expected that.

His phone buzzed against the desk. He glanced at the screen, answered without a word, and listened.

Elena watched his face. It didn't change, not by a flicker, and somehow that frightened her more than anything yet.

"How long ago?" he asked quietly.

A pause. Then, "Check the cameras. And find out who was at that desk."

He ended the call and set the phone down with deliberate care, the way a man sets down something that might explode.

"What?" Elena was on her feet. "What happened? Where's Marco?"

"Luca reached the Aurelian ten minutes ago," Dante said. "Your brother wasn't in the lobby."

"Then he went home. He said Sunday—"

"The desk clerk says a man in a gray coat walked him out through the side entrance. He told the clerk he was my driver." Dante's voice was very quiet. "Your brother went with him willingly."

"I don't have a driver," Dante said.

Behind her, the study door opened. Teo stood on the threshold, looking from Dante to Elena, and for the first time since she'd met him, he looked genuinely shaken.

"Dante," he said. "They're not hiding it anymore."

Elena looked from one man to the other and realized, with a cold certainty, that last night had only been the beginning.