Chapter 63

• ARMANDO
• The drive to the scene felt endless. Matteo sat in the front passenger seat—his jaw tight and his eyes scanning the streets as though he might catch a glimpse of the people responsible for what had happened to Enzo—while I sat in the back, silent as my hands clenched into fists. And although the chauffeur had given us every detail he knew, none of it was enough. I needed to see it for myself.
• When the limo finally slowed, Matteo cursed under his breath. “Police,” he muttered.