Chapter 9. The New Prison

Ezio buttoned his jacket and stepped out of the study. The villa’s corridors were quiet at this hour—sunlight slanting through the tall windows, gilding the marble floors. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the faint clatter of dishes and Rosa’s voice snapping orders at the kitchen staff.

He was halfway to the main hall when she appeared—blocking his path, hands on her hips, eyes sharp as ever.

“Don’t tell me you’re leaving,” Rosa said. “What are we supposed to do with the girl?”

Ezio glanced at his watch. “You’ll do what you always do—keep her alive.”

“That’s not funny,” she muttered. “She woke up in a strange house, doesn’t know where she is, and you expect her to sit quietly like a pet?”

“She’ll adjust,” Ezio said, slipping into his coat. “Treat her like a guest. Feed her. Make her comfortable. But keep the door locked—just in case she gets ideas.”

Rosa arched a brow. “And if she doesn’t like her ‘guest’ treatment?”

“Then you call R