Luca POV
I could have left on day three.
I want to be precise about that. Not day four. Not day five. Day three when the fever broke properly and my legs agreed to hold weight and the exit route I had already mapped required exactly eleven steps to the front door and one flight of fire escape to the street below.
Eleven steps. I counted them from the couch at 4 a.m. while she slept.
I did not take them.
I run the numbers instead. The street is watched I confirmed that through the window on day two, black sedan, rotating shifts, Greco footsoldiers running a search pattern that tells me they don't know exactly where I am but they know the radius. Dante doesn't have my location. Moving while compromised, without backup, without a weapon beyond what I carry on my body, is a risk that doesn't calculate cleanly.
That is the logic.
I have been telling myself the logic for two days.
