Too carefully.
I stepped closer, instinct overriding reason, and caught a glimpse of her hand. My stomach dropped.
The fingers were swollen, bent at unnatural angles, the knuckles bruised purple and green.
Not a fresh injury. Not old enough to be healed.
Deliberate.
I sucked in a breath that burned all the way down. My eyes drifted lower, and the full scope of it hit me like a physical blow.
Her legs.
Scars layered over scars, crisscrossing from ankle to thigh. Jagged, uneven lines—some thin and pale, others angry and red, still healing. Whips. Blades. Improvised weapons. Pain inflicted not once, but repeatedly.
Because of me.
A sound tore out of my chest, half breath, half sob.
I staggered back a step, bile rising in my throat. This wasn’t punishment. This was systematic destruction.
Someone had taken their time with her.
I turned back to her face, my vision swimming.
“Elena...” My voice barely survived the word. It came out hoarse, fractured, like my throat had forgotten how to form her name. “I’m—” I swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry.”
Sorry was nothing. Sorry was an insult.
“I’ll do anything,” I continued, the words tumbling out desperate and raw. “Anything. I’ll burn the world down if that’s what it takes. I swear to you—” My knees bent despite my will. I was seconds from kneeling in the dirt, pride finally dead, reduced to dust. “Please. Let me fix this.”
She didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t react.
Her gaze stayed locked on mine, empty and endless, like she was looking through me instead of at me. As if I were just another shadow passing through her ruined world.
That broke something final inside my chest.
I was already lowering myself when Petros appeared at my side, his presence tentative, almost fearful. I barely registered him until he spoke.
“Sir...” His voice wavered. “She—she can’t answer you.”
I turned to him sharply. “What do you mean?”
Petros swallowed. His face was pale, his eyes unable to meet mine. “She lost her voice in there. Completely.”
The words didn’t make sense at first.
“Lost...?” My mind rejected them. “Temporarily?”
He shook his head once. Slowly. Gravely. “The medical report says it’s psychosomatic. Severe trauma. The guards said it started after... after prolonged screaming.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “She hasn’t spoken since the third month.”
The world tilted.
Sound drained away, replaced by a roaring emptiness.
