Chapter 52 The Bleeding File

• DANTE
• The rain had fallen over Naples all night, as if the sky itself needed to purge. I didn’t sleep. I stayed there, sitting in front of the black wooden table, surrounded by printed reports with ink too red, satellite captures, and an old file with burnt corners. I hadn’t touched the wine. Not even looked at it. The villa’s air had that dense smell of dampness and old gunpowder that only returns when ghosts start breathing again. I felt the weight of the night on my shoulders, as if darkness had chosen me to ask a question I didn’t want to answer.
• Paolo appeared in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with an unlit cigarette between his fingers. He watched me in silence, as if unsure whether to speak or let me rot in my storm.