[Flashback. Milan,1988]
[As soon as he'd gotten the call from Deon, his heart began to race. Adrenaline rushed through the boy from head to toe - not stopping to breathe let alone inform someone. Elise was tending to their one year old, Isaac. There was no time for explanations, the urgency of the situation was clear. He ran. From his home to the Morris household just two blocks away. The Italian expanse was quiet with the lateness of the hour, and the sound of Oliver Fanoli's sneakers pounding against the open road was all that could be heard. He'd received the phone call and heard Deon's voice crackle his name, before hearing a muffled sound akin suffocation. A million scenarios rushed through his mind but the only conclusion he arrived at was that he needed to get to the boy, and he needed to get to him as fast as he could. Bursting through the gate, he drew his loaded gun. Not making a sound, he quickly fled to the back door, not wanting to alert any possible threat inside to his presence. Surveying the scene, his eyes met the form of his best friend, along with a horrific sight.]
Fratello?
