37 • Scapegoat

◆ LORENZIO ◆

An incessant buzzing noise beside my head jolted me out of my sleep. I sat up on the bed and glanced at the nightstand clock.

Bollocks. Not even dawn yet. I rubbed my eyes. I itched the old white scar on my forehead, right on my hairline. It wasn't that old, though. Under bright lights, I could still trace Mykaela's clean stitches whenever I stared at the pale scarring up-close.

As my brain fought through the groggy haze, I tried to concentrate on the noise. It was my phone. Vibrating somewhere. I slid my fingers under my other pillow and grabbed my phone as it buzzed louder in my hand.

Unregistered number. Florence area code. One of the lawyers? No. I had all of their numbers saved on this account. Yawning, I switched on the bedside lamp, half-expecting a familiar voice to fill the other line, and half-dreading another slew of bad news.

"Lying piece of shit." Oh, great. It was my dearest brother: Leandro Enrico Tomassini. Someone gave him my new number.

But it wasn'