"It was Bruno Ferrante's right-hand man."
What followed the name was a chilling silence.
"Bruno?" Nico's voice was dangerously quiet, little more than a low rumble. He didn't look exactly surprised, neither was he angry.
Instead, his tone was cold like his suspicions had just been confirmed.
Silva shrank back against the leather upholstery, nodding frantically. The expensive suitcase between his feet suddenly looked like a foolish, desperate anchor. "He came to the apartment," he said. "He didn't break in; he bypassed the building security, disabled the cameras, and was just sitting in my living room when I woke up to get a glass of water."
The doctor's voice cracked. "He said if I didn't leave the city by noon today, they would find my wife. They knew exactly where she was. They knew about her sister's place in Florence. They knew the layout of the street. I panicked. Regent, Don Ferrante, I am so sorry. I just panicked."
