Bruised Truths

Dante

I knew something was off the moment I walked into the kitchen.

Too early.

Too quiet.

And Marcello was already awake.

That alone was suspicious.

He stood by the counter, leaning slightly forward, one hand braced against the marble while the other held a cloth to his face. There was a bottle of something antiseptic open beside him, the sharp smell cutting through the usual warmth of coffee and