Enzo's POV
My boots clicked a hollow rhythm on the cobblestones, each step echoing too loudly in the pre-dawn quiet. A knot of unease tightened in my gut. a prickle on the back of my neck, the distinct sensation of eyes on me, staring from the trees, since I arrived.
Just a feeling, a phantom limb of paranoia, but it clung to me like the fog, a habit born of necessity. This life, my life, was a tapestry woven with secrets, and the fewer threads visible, the better.
Still, the feeling persisted. Was it just my nerves, Or was someone truly out there? The thought made my jaw clench. If I was being followed, it could only mean one thing: one of my grandfather, shadowy operatives.
The apothecary, tucked away behind a crumbling facade of ancient stone, loomed into view. No welcoming glow spilled from its windows, no scent of herbs and tinctures wafted into the street. It was a place of shadows and secrets, a true reflection of the man who resided within.
