“No food.”
Ciro nodded once.
“Let his stomach remind him,” Vincenzo continued, “what happens when he lets personal feelings override orders on a mission.”
“Understood.”
Ciro moved.
Without hesitation, he stepped forward and hauled Renzo to his feet by the elbow with firm, controlled force.
Renzo didn’t resist.
Didn’t struggle.
Didn’t even lift his head.
And—he didn’t look at me.
Not once.
As they passed, as he was dragged toward the door, he remained silent.
Composed.
The door closed behind them with a heavy, echoing clang that seemed to settle into the bones of the room.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
And then—guilt hit.
Hard.
It crashed over me like a wave, stealing what little air I had left.
I’d begged to go.
Insisted. Pushed. Pressed.
And now—
Renzo was being punished.
Not just punished—isolated.
Starved.
Locked away in darkness for seven days because I couldn’t stand being left behind.
My chest tightened painfully.
Vincenzo stepped closer again.
I tensed instantly when his hand lifted toward me.
Instinct screamed.
Bracing for pain.
