Milo pulled his knees closer to his chest, his brow furrowing as he tried to piece together the fragmented images in his mind.
"Uh... I don't remember exactly where it was," he said, his voice quiet against the steady ticking of the wall clock.
"But it was so dark. I remember it because I was so scared. I don't know if it was in the vineyard. But how do you know, Sir?"
Salvatore did not move from the chair, but his gray eyes seemed to darken as the final confirmation settled between them.
The timeline was seamless. The deaths of the Gallo family and the murder of his parents were the exact same tragedy, he even believed they might have been carried out by the same hand.
"As I told you, I sensed that we had connections in the past," Salvatore said, his tone dropping into a low, firm register. "So it means what I was thinking is correct. You are the youngest son of Pietro Gallo. I will tell you more later when Roderick gets more information about you."
