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"A case for what?"

"What do you think, Amanda?"

She flinches at the way I say it.

"He wouldn't," she says. "Elio wouldn't do that. He was there to protect me. Vittoria sent him to⁠—"

"Vittoria didn't know what he was."

"You don't know what he was either. You just said you don't have the full picture."

"I know they don't bring in a prosecutor from Rome for nothing."

"That's not—" She shakes her head hard, like she can make the words come apart if she refuses them fast enough. "You're wrong. You have to be wrong. He⁠—"

Her voice cracks.

And that is what does it.

Not the arrest. Not the case. Not even the word trafficking.

That sound.

Amanda grieving for Elio Mancini like he has earned anything from her.

The rage is already there. Her voice cracking over his name gives it somewhere to go.

I move before I think.

My hand closes around her throat. Not hard. Just enough to pull her closer.

Her breath hits my mouth. Her eyes go wide.

"Are you in love with him?" I ask.

My voice is quiet.

That makes it worse.

Amanda is crying.

Amanda heard his name and defended him. She heard trafficking and refused to believe it. Now she's crying.

The rest follows.

My hand opens.

Her throat slips free. She drags in a breath that sounds like it hurts and reaches for me, but I pull away before she can touch me.

"Don't."

"Valentino, I'm not⁠—"

"From now on, you don't touch me."

She just stares at me.

Amanda