The city passed in streaks of light and shadow, but inside the car the silence was louder than the engine.

Eva sat rigid in the passenger seat, every knife on her body digging cold into her skin. On the dashboard, the Polaroid lay face-up. Sophia’s innocent face smiled up at them in the flickering glow of headlights—mocking, haunting, accusing.

Neither of them spoke.

Not until Alessandro’s voice cut through the dark.

“You’re shaking.”

Eva didn’t look at him. “I’m ...