The dining room was already lit when they came down—soft chandeliers casting gold across the long mahogany table.
The scent of roasted herbs and wine drifted through the air, mingling with something earthy and warm, the kind of atmosphere that made the evening feel heavier, slower, more deliberate.
Don Luciano was already seated at the head of the table, a glass of red wine in hand, the liquid catching the light like liquid rubies.
His gaze lifted when he heard their steps—Felix and Matteo descending side by side, not too close, but not distant either.
There was an ease to their proximity that hadn't been there before.
Something in that quiet closeness made the old man's shoulders ease, tension he hadn't realized he'd been carrying finally releasing.
"Finally," Don Luciano said, his tone calm but his eyes searching, taking in every detail of their body language. "You two decided to join the living."
