MATTEO’S POV
I ran my hand through my hair for what felt like the millionth time. Time was ticking, and the weight of every passing second settled heavier on my shoulders. I could hear the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. It was the only sound in the otherwise tense silence that surrounded us. The low hum of the chandelier above did little to cut through the thickness in the air.
I sighed and collapsed onto the plush leather couch, feeling no comfort in its softness. Leon and Marcello sat opposite me, both looking like they'd rather be anywhere else. Leon, true to form, held a crystal tumbler in his hand, filled with aged whisky that glinted gold under the chandelier light.
"Okay," Leon began, his voice laced with irritation, "can you tell us why you dragged us out of bed at five in the damn morning?"
I rubbed a hand down my face, dragging it slowly across my jaw as though it could remove the stress etched into every feature. "Sophia is gone."