The days after the black car felt different. Elena went to work as usual. She opened files and answered questions and sat through long meetings. But her mind kept returning to the small room above the shops, the cup of tea, and the way Dante had looked at her when he said the name Castellano.

She did not tell anyone what had happened. There was no one she could tell. The danger he had spoken of stayed in her thoughts like a quiet shadow. Yet the memory of his hand on her arm stayed too. Strong. Sudden. Safe for one short moment.