Matteo had faced danger before, but nothing felt like this.
Every instinct screamed that something was wrong, that the quiet in the room was the kind that comes before a storm.
Felix should've been safe. He should've been close.
Matteo's mind was racing. Felix. Where was Felix?
"Where's Felix?" Don Luciano asked, as if reading his thoughts. He had finished his call and was staring at Matteo with sharp, assessing eyes.
"He's at his office," Matteo said, already moving toward the door. "I'll go get him—"
"Wait." Don Luciano stood. "Call first. Make sure he's there."
Matteo pulled out his phone, his hands steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He dialed Felix's number.
It rang once.
Twice.
Three times.
"Come on, pick up," Matteo muttered.
Finally, on the fourth ring: "Hey, sorry, I was—"
"Felix." Matteo kept his voice calm, controlled. "Where are you right now?"
A pause. "At the café. Near the office. Why? What's wrong?"
