[Salvo's Pov]
[Mancini Mansion, Night]
I stared blankly out at the garden from the balcony, smoke curling from the tip of my ninth cigarette.
Ninth.
And the night wasn't even over yet. The cold breeze didn't help. Nothing did. Because how the fuck was I supposed to process this?
Everything Alfio—no, Luca—had said… It still echoed like madness in my skull.
"This world isn't real."
"I'm not Alfio."
"The real Alfio is dead."
I dragged in another breath of smoke—long and deep—letting it claw its way through my chest before exhaling it into the empty night.
So what now?
Everything I believed in… All my pain, my vengeance, my hatred—was it just ink on a page? Scribbles by some unseen hand for a story no one asked to be in?
Was that it?
Was my misery entertainment?
I crushed the cigarette into the ashtray, fingers trembling just enough to make me want to punch something. I raked a hand through my hair, glancing inside.
He was there.
