Wednesday, September 4th, 2022Demien's Apartment, Bergamo4:03 AM
The phone vibrated hard against the nightstand, the sound cutting through the darkness of the bedroom like a knife, and Demien's eyes opened slowly as his brain struggled to process why anything would be ringing at four in the morning.
He reached out blindly, his hand finding the phone and pulling it close enough to see the screen, and Marco's name glowed bright against the black background.
Why the hell is Marco calling right now?
He swiped to answer and pressed the phone to his ear, his voice rough with sleep. "Marco?"
"Why am I just hearing about England inviting you to represent them?" Marco's voice came through loud and sharp, no greeting, no preamble, just accusation. "Or are you waiting for Italy to come for you too before you tell me anything?"
