Renzo stepped inside.
For a second, I just stared at him.
Three days had passed since the rescue, and I hadn’t laid eyes on Renzo.
Ciro had mentioned Renzo was away—handling something outside the city—but now he stood in front of me, very much present.
Very real.
And different.
His shoulders were tighter than usual.
His posture more rigid.
There were shadows under his eyes that hadn’t been there before.
And when he looked at me—really looked—something in his expression shifted.
Something heavy.
Something close to guilt.
“Can I hug you?” he asked quietly.
The question caught me off guard.
I nodded.
He crossed the room in two quick strides and wrapped his arms around me.
Careful.
So careful.
Like he was afraid I might break if he held too tight.
His hand rested lightly against my back.
His other arm circled my shoulders, steady but not restrictive.
And just like that—something in me gave way.
I melted into him.
My body leaning into the warmth, into the solid presence of another human being who wasn’t trying to hurt me.
His heartbeat was steady beneath my ear.
Strong. Grounding.
For a moment—just a moment—I felt safe.
The first time in weeks.
My hands tightened against his shirt, gripping harder than I meant to.
He didn’t pull away.
