Gunpowder and Silence

Vittoria

It had been two days since Dante started acting strange again, more distant, more alert, as though shadows had begun whispering to him. He hadn’t said much, only that he had things to “check out.” The look in his eyes had told me the rest.

Whatever it was, it was dangerous.

And for the first time in a long while, I didn't press.

I'd learned that silence could be its own kind of weapon.

It