Chapter 85. She Made Her Choice

They reached the apartment in a rush of heavy footsteps and frayed nerves.

Dario and another man half-carried Dante inside, lowering him onto the couch in the living room.

Rosa stood in the doorway, drying her hands with a dish towel, confusion shifting slowly into worry as she took in the scene.

“What happened? Dio santo—Dante, are you hurt?”

Ezio didn’t slow down. He was already crossing the room like a storm on legs.

“Margherita’s gone,” he fired over his shoulder.

Rosa froze. “What—?”

He didn’t answer. He was already at Margherita’s door, wrenching it open hard enough that it bounced off the wall. He slipped inside, scanning, searching—sharp, desperate.

Rosa followed him quickly. “Ezio—Ezio, what are you looking for?”

“Something she left behind,” he muttered, rifling through the nightstand drawer, then checking under the bed, then the wardrobe. Too fast. Too frantic.

“She wouldn’t leave on her own,” he said through clen