Matteo

I remained seated at the scarred oak table, the dagger in front of me, its carved hilt catching the dim light like it was mocking me.

Elira’s questions still rang in my ears, each one a jab at the walls I’d built over years. She was relentless, digging for answers I wasn’t ready to give. Hell, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready. But this lady didn't seem like she was going to be taking no for an answer either.

Kill me already.

“Matteo,” she’d said, her voice sharp as a blade, leaning across the table like she could pry my secrets open with her stare. “I'm going to...