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Summary
Hannibal moved through the study, not searching for anything... Instead, he found tucked between the pages, was a small sheet of sketch paper... A sketch. Unfinished. Of Will. Not the man in the garden... but the Will who never arrived. Who Hannibal chose and refused to become.
He didn’t remember hiding it. But he had. As a wound more than a keepsake... Outside, laughter rose from the courtyard. The man’s and Abigail’s.
Hannibal closed the book. Slipped the sketch back between the pages. And this time, he remembered putting it there.In which, when Will Graham returns to Florence, he finds the life he left behind reshaped in his absence—by a version of himself who never pulled away, and by Hannibal, who carries not only memory but something growing beneath his skin.
The man Will once hunted now moves with careful domesticity, slicing tomatoes in quiet kitchens, yet still haunted by blood.