Lucius returned to his hotel room, stepping out onto the balcony as he held a lighter in his hand. The cool night breeze brushed against his face, soothing him from the outside, yet inside, a storm churned. Leaning against the railing, he studied the lighter—the last remnant he had of Matteo.
"What did you keep from me, Matteo?" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "You never mentioned it… not even while taking your last breath." A deep ache gripped his heart, one he couldn't voice. Every time he thought of Matteo, it left him feeling hollow, weighed down, and dizzy all at once.
"Boss, it's time to leave. Everything's prepared," Roger's voice pulled him from his thoughts, grounding him. Lucius inhaled deeply, steadying himself. Roger's gaze held a quiet understanding—he knew his boss was once again lost in memories of the past.
