Outside, the world was already in motion. The sleek black car waited at the foot of the stone steps, polished to a liquid, mirror shine.
The driver stood ready, door held open, his head bowed in practiced, silent respect.
Near him stood Luca, Matteo's right hand. Young, with sharp, observant eyes, his posture blended casual ease with lethal precision—a man who knew how to navigate chaos with a steady hand.
"Sir," Luca greeted, dipping his chin. His gaze flicked briefly to Felix, offering the faintest, knowing smile of acknowledgment before settling back into seamless formality.
Matteo gave a short, acknowledging nod, and with that, the morning's rhythm clicked into place.
Felix, however, lingered for a moment at the top of the steps, breathing in the outside air as if it were his first true taste of freedom in months. His chest expanded, a quiet thrill sparking beneath his ribs.
Matteo noticed but said nothing, only gesturing lightly toward the open car door. "Shall we?"
