Dante almost immediately stood up and helped her to a chair.
The movement was as natural as instinct.
“Speak.”
He took the documents.
He opened them.
His gaze swept over them quickly.
Seraphine spoke softly.
“It was Nico.”
“Last night…he hit someone in the grey zone inside and outside Baro.”
She paused.
As if suppressing fear.
“He said it wasn’t intentional.”
“It was raining, visibility was poor, the road was slippery…”
Dante’s fingers stopped on the pages.
His voice turned somber.
“Is the person dead?”
Seraphine nodded.
The air instantly chilled.
Dante continued, his tone now serious, as if handling a case.
“Identity.”
“Has it been confirmed?”
“Have the family been contacted?”
Seraphina shook her head.
Her hand unconsciously went to her throat.
That detail flashed through her mind.
“No.”
“Nico said…the person was thrown into the air, crashing directly into the windshield.”
“The face is disfigured.”
“There’s nothing to confirm the identity.”
“And no one has claimed the body.”
She spoke these words softly.
As if recounting an accident unrelated to herself.
Dante remained silent.
The silver lighter in his hand was held between his fingers.
He turned it gently.
Click.
Click.
The flame flickered, then went out.
“Speed.”