I would endure—outlast every one of them—and when this year ended, I would stand among the survivors.
And Vincenzo would see it.
He would see exactly how strong I am.
My gaze drifted across the field.
Trainees moved in groups.
Laughter echoed faintly between the buildings.
Conversations carried.
They moved in clusters—three, four, sometimes more—like packs forming inside a structure that would eventually turn on itself.
I didn’t join any of them.
Not because I didn’t want to—but because I couldn’t.
The whispers followed me everywhere.
Soft at first. Then louder.
Then impossible to ignore.
That’s her.
The boss’s wife.
The one who stole Violet Alvarez’s wedding.
The words clung to me like smoke.
I ignored them.
Or tried to.
Because the truth was—none of this mattered to me right now.
Not the academy. Not the training.
Not the whispers.
My mind was fixed on something else entirely.
Renzo.
Eight days.
That’s how long he’d been locked in the dark cell.
No light. No day.
No sound.
No sense of time—only breath, hunger, silence, and isolation.
And the consequences of a single mistake.
