Alessia
"That's the truth." I said finally.
Marco's voice was unusually quiet, the kind of calmness that made your heartbeat feel louder in your ears.
"You're sure?" he asked, his eyes pinning me where I stood.
I swallowed the lie before speaking it.
"Yes. I tracked him. But I was too late, just like I told you, he was already dead when I got there."
The words came out steady enough. That was the dangerous part. I had gotten good at sounding calm while something inside me rose to my ribs. Marco's gaze stayed on me, unreadable, as if he was measuring every pause, every breath, every fracture in my face.
He leaned back against the edge of the oak desk behind him, his hands bracing himself like he didn't believe me, or maybe he did, and that was worse. That he believed the lie. Or that he trusted me still.
I forced my breathing to slow.
