Lia’s pov

The return journey was quiet. Lia frequently looked at Luca in the rearview mirror, partially anticipating him to share something more—another enigmatic recollection, another piece of information that wasn’t his. Yet he simply gazed out the window, his little fingers drumming against his knee in that familiar mindless beat. Dante’s grip on the wheel was firm, his eyes fixed on the roadway. Lia recognized that expression. He was pondering something, connecting the dots, ...