Chapter 17. Crossing Lines

Ezio left before dawn.

The house was silent, the hallways still soaked in night. He didn’t bother waking Rosa—just took his keys and drove until the city’s edge gave way to the gray sprawl of the docks.

Now, hours later, he sat in his office at the back of the old warehouse—the one he used for “business.” From the window, he could see the cranes shifting cargo over the dark water, steel grinding against steel, the hum of industry steady and numbing.

He needed the noise. It helped drown out everything else.

A file lay open in front of him. He’d read the same paragraph three times.

I hate crying. I hate begging you for anything.

The words wouldn’t leave his head.

He wasn’t supposed to care what she said. He wasn’t supposed to remember the way her voice had cracked, or the way she’d looked at him—not afraid, just defeated.

He rubbed a hand over his face and leaned back in the chair.

“She’s just a job,” he muttered unde