Shadows of the city center

I had spent the entire night prowling the shadows of the city center, talking to the unhoused, the forgotten, and the desperate. Every time a jagged voice offered a scrap of information—no matter how useless it seemed—I reached into my pocket and paid them in crumpled euros. My hands were stained with the city and the euros, and my mind was heavy. I’d spoken to so many of the unhoused that I’d almost lost my voice.

"I’m looking for Mazzarella," I snapped, the exhaustion finally starting to grate on my nerves as I asked the last unhoused person I saw. "Just tell me if you've seen his relatives or know where he’s being held."

"You're looking for a ghost, signorina. No one here has seen him or his family in a while,” one old man had wheezed as he tucked a twenty-euro note into his rags. “Thanks for the money.”

Despite the all-nighter and the large fortune I’d handed out, I wasn't a single step closer to finding where Rob was being held. The trail was ice-cold. The neon lights of the historic center flickered and died as dawn threatened the horizon. As the first grey streaks of sunlight began to bleed into the sky, illuminating the ancient cobblestones, I decided to give up for the morning and head back to my apartment.

I was halfway back toward the outskirts, my boots echoing hollowly against the stone and gravel, when a voice sliced through the morning mist.

"Marie!"

I froze. Not just any name. My real name. In this world of aliases and shadows, it was a sound that made my heart skip. I spun around, hand instinctively hovering near my IDs, only to find a familiar, rugged face watching me.

It was Charlie. He was one of my best friends here in Italy—the only person who truly knew the woman behind the mission.

"You look like hell," he said softly, walking toward me.

"I've been working," I replied, a tired smile finally breaking through. I looked at him, feeling the sudden, sharp ache of loneliness. "Come back to my apartment with me."

Charlie didn’t hesitate. He simply nodded, falling into step beside me as we navigated the long trek away from the heart of the city. We walked in a companionable silence, the kind only earned through years of shared secrets and close calls. The city was beginning to groan back to life behind us; the scent of espressos faded, replaced by the industrial, damp smell of the Roman outskirts.

My apartment was tucked away in a building that seemed to lean against its neighbors for support, a third-floor walk-up with a heavy wooden door that groaned on its hinges. As I fumbled with the iron key, my hands shook—just a fraction—but enough for Charlie to notice. He didn’t reach out to take the keys from me; he knew better than to bruise my pride. He just stood there, a steady, silent anchor in the fading grey light.

Inside, the air was cool and smelled of the lemon oil I used to keep the dust at bay. I didn't turn on the lights, letting the dim morning seep through the thin curtains. I dropped my jacket on the sofa, the weight of the night finally, fully settling into my bones.

“How did you know where I was?” I asked Charlie.

“A few of the unhoused called Rob’s family to let them know someone that they didn’t recognize was looking for him,” he said. “It didn’t take too much digging for me to find that it was you looking for him.”

I looked at him before I asked.

“Do you know where he is?” I asked.

Charlie walked over to the small kitchen, put the teapot under the tap, filled it up and started the burner then placed the teapot on the burner. The blue flame hissed to life, a small, violent spark in the dim room.

"I do know but you need to promise me that you’ll stop doing this covert work. When it comes to you doing it professionally, you’re amazing and no one can figure out who’s who but now that it’s personal, you’re off your game."

I closed my eyes and sighed. The kettle whistled as Charlie was digging around for tea bags….the noise was bothersome so I got up and took the kettle off the stove and turned the burner off.

“I promise,” I sighed.

“Do you really promise, amica?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah,” I said.