*Olivia*
I paced back and forth in front of the unlit fireplace in our living room-turned-war room. I paused, gnawing on my thumbnail, and looked at the troops we’d gathered.
Gabriele was bent over his cell phone, whispering rapid Italian along the line. At least, I thought it was Italian. With worry clouding my mind, the second language kept slipping through my fingers, and I couldn’t make out a word of his conversation.
Alessandro claimed a whole couch for himself and covered it in paperwork and laptops. He leaned over and typed something into my laptop, which I’d happily offered up. The school logo and smiling coffee cup stickers on the front seemed oddly grisly at the moment.