Alessandro was statue-still, his face a mask of such profound, utter devastation that it was more terrifying than any rage. He wasn’t looking at the screen anymore. He was staring through it, through the wall, through time itself.

“Alessandro?” Eva’s voice was soft, a lifeline thrown into the abyss she saw in his eyes.

The sound of his name seemed to fracture something in him. He didn’t look at her. His gaze remained fixed on some distant, painful point, and when he spoke, his voice ...