The phone hit the wall, shattering into plastic and wires, but the sickly echo of her voice still clung to Alessio’s skull like a rot he couldn’t claw out.

She had Luca.

His Luca. His brother. His right hand. His family.

The room pulsed around him, heat flooding his chest as he ripped his jacket off, grabbing his weapons with a precision that would’ve scared anyone else.

Noa stirred on the couch, groggy, bruised, stitched together but not whole. “What happened?”

Alessio didn’t look ...