Chapter 48 The Resurrection Of The Monster

• DANTE
• Italy did not welcome me with flowers, but with rain. As it should be. In Naples, the sky shows no mercy—not to saints, nor to bastards. And I had ceased to be the first a long time ago. The villa stood like an old wound, falsely healed. The walls smelled of dampness, dried blood, and poorly made decisions. I liked it. It was home.
• Verona had traveled a few days earlier to prepare everything. Ivy, of course, had come with me. She didn’t let me breathe, and in a way, I didn’t want her to. It was her way of saying she wasn’t going to let me break. Or maybe it was her way of taking advantage of the edge I returned with. I had become a functional monster. One who didn’t cry, didn’t love, and only responded to three things: business, revenge, and sex.