SAOIRSE."No."The word cut through the noise of the restaurant like a knife. It was quiet, but it landed heavy on the table.Massimo didn't blink. He sat across from me, his posture relaxed, one hand resting on the stem of his wine glass. The crystal caught the light from the chandelier above, throwing a prism of color onto the maroon tablecloth. The restaurant was full. People were laughing, clinking glasses, and living their lives. But in our corner, the air was thick enough to choke on."You say no," Massimo said. His voice was low, smooth, like gravel wrapped in velvet. "You say no to the only way out.""I say no to the war," I corrected. My hands were under the table, gripping my thighs. My knuckles were white. I could feel the tremor in my legs, the adrenaline that made my heart hammer against my ribs.Massimo took a slow sip of his wine. He didn't swallow immediately. He let the liquid sit on his tongue, tasting it, judging it. Then he set the glass down. The sound of the cry
Mehr lesen