Enzo’s POV
Dungeon?
The second I heard the word, something twisted hard inside my chest. My blood ran cold, freezing the rage that had been boiling in my veins only moments before.
Rebecca wouldn’t survive in the dungeon. She had suffered from claustrophobia ever since she was a child. She hated small spaces; even as a little girl, she used to panic whenever she got trapped somewhere dark for too long. I still remembered the day we found her trembling inside a storage room at eight years old, clawing at the walls and screaming for air while tears streamed down her tiny face. I had been the one to pull her out. I had been the one she clung to until her breathing finally steadied.
Three days underground would destroy her. And Clara knew that. She knew that better than anyone.
My eye
