His gaze swept the garage in one fluid, calculating motion, analyzing every shadow, every possible angle.
Then he saw them.
Two figures emerging slowly from the far end of the dimly lit space, their footsteps echoing softly against the concrete.
At first, they were only silhouettes against the low light.
Then details emerged.
A young woman, roughly my age.
Dark hair pulled into a loose braid over one shoulder, a few strands falling loose around her face.
Her posture was upright, but her eyes... her eyes carried something heavy.
Grief. Fear.
And determination all at once.
Beside her stood a man.
Older. Still.
Dangerous in the quiet way storms are dangerous before they break.
He didn’t rush. Didn’t speak.
But everything about him screamed control.
I felt it immediately.
Instinct.
And I almost stepped back without realizing it.
My fingers began to slip from Vincenzo’s.
A reflex.
A small instinct to give him space.
To let him face this alone.
But his grip tightened instantly.
A silent message pressed into my palm:
You stay.
We stop.
The pair halted at a respectful distance.
Not close enough to threaten. Not far enough to disappear.
The young woman spoke first.
Her voice was soft.
