The door shut behind him, heavy like the start of a storm. Lorenzo stood tall in the middle of her apartment, black coat still on, shoulders hard like stone. His eyes found hers at once. Dark, sharp, full of fire.
Aria clutched the photo of her mother to her chest, fingers shaking. She didn't know if she should hand it to him, or hide it, or burn it before he could see. But Lorenzo's gaze was already locked on her trembling hands.
"What is that?" he asked. His voice was low, dangerous.
She tried to speak, but her throat closed. The photo slipped from her grip and fell onto the table. Face up. Her mother's terrified eyes stared at them both.
Lorenzo froze. His jaw clenched tight. His hand curled into a fist so hard his knuckles turned white. He picked up the photo, his fingers trembling even though his face stayed stone.
"Where is she?" His voice was sharper now, like a knife ready to cut.
