**Stefano’s POV**

“I saw Elena.”

That was the first thing I heard as I sat down in Marco’s living room.

The words hit me so hard I forgot how to breathe.

Marco wasn’t around. Carmela sat stiffly on the arm of a leather chair, her fingers laced so tightly that her knuckles looked like white stones. She wouldn't look at me. Her eyes were fixed on the patterned tiles, her face etched with a look of heavy, silent dread.

I moved so fast the chair legs screeched violently against the ...