The silence in the room caved in around Noa like the walls were closing, pressing against his skull, against his ribs, against every part of him still barely stitched together. His real mother. Alive. The words rattled inside him like loose bullets, and every second felt like Alessio’s fingers tightening around his heart, dragging him back when everything in him wanted to break loose.

“Say that again,” Noa rasped, his voice cracking like cheap glass.

Alessio’s hands caught his ...