Lia’s pov

The burden of their predicament bore down on Lia's chest, despite the morning sun pouring through the windows, casting warm rays of light over the kitchen table. It seemed off—excessively silent, overly calm—while everything within her shouted that they were on the brink of something perilous. Dante sat opposite her, his fingers drumming mindlessly on his coffee mug. He had not made contact with it. Haven’t talked much since last night, after Matteo departed. Luca, still ...