Silence floods back in, thick and absolute.
For a second, I almost wish they were still here, just so the noise would distract from the reality pressing in around me. Instead, it’s only the low hum of the pipes overhead, the occasional rattle of chains, and the faint drip of water somewhere in the corner. Every sound feels amplified, the room itself reminding me: you’re trapped.
The restraints cut into my wrists when I flex my hands, a dull burn that never quite eases. I try again anyway, pushing and pulling—pointless but necessary. I need to know everycentimetre of slack, every angle, every weakness they might have overlooked. Pain is better than sitting still.
My throat is desert-dry, my lips cracked, and when I swallow, it feels like dragging glass down my windpipe. The memory of their laughter makes my teeth clench until my jaw aches.
Keeping my eyes closed, I tilt my head back, breathing slow and controlled. If I let myself spiral—if I let rage eat me alive here—then they win.
Focus, Ace. Trace it back.
I force my breathing steady, replaying.
The SUV. Black. Parked too close to the fence.Wrong. I knew it was wrong.But I was so distracted by Elijah.
The attack was fast, precise. A gloved hand, a sting, then the world swam sideways, but I saw Hank.
My baby, my guardian.
I try not to picture his fur matted with blood. Try not to think of his loyal eyes watching as they dragged me away.
I know I should be thinking of anything else but all I need to know is if he’s still alive.
But does it even matter?
Even if he is alive, that doesn’t mean that I will be.
Would my father start a war over my life?
No.
Would my brother?
I don’t know.
I hope not, that would just get him killed. He still reports to Dante.
I close my eyes for a moment and let the sting of my reality hit.
I hope these pathetic men kill me quickly and let my brother heal and move on.
Enzo knew I was going to die, but I also knew he didn’t want it to be this soon.
I try to keep my memories tighter, squeezing them as I physically curl my hands into fists against the post.I will not lose it. I will not forget.
I will die with honour.
* * *
Somewhere across the room, I hear the sound of clanking metal, the scrape of chain dragging over concrete. I know there’s someone here with me. And though he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. I can feel his eyes on me, heavy in the dark.
I force my eyes to open slightly, looking to my right, but he must be behind me because I can’t see anything.
After a few minutes of silence, I allow myself to close my eyes again, exhausted from the constant struggle, but then a voice deep, threaded with amusement, makes my eyelids drag open, vision swimming.
“You make a cute angry face when you’re trying to wake up.”
A figure crouches on the ground in my peripheral vision.
