The laughter still echoed when silence swallowed the cellar again. Ayra’s voice clung to the stone walls, her words embedding like shards of glass in my skin.
Angelo hadn’t moved. He stood rooted, eyes locked on me, unreadable now. The fury was still there, burning, but it was layered with something colder, sharper. Calculation.
“Boss,” the guard tried again, his voice hesitant, “the nurse swore she…”
“Get out,” Angelo cut him off. His voice was soft, almost gentle. That softness was worse than shouting.
The guard stammered, nodded quickly, and vanished up the stairs, boots pounding in his retreat. The cellar door groaned shut, and with it came a heavy silence.
I couldn’t breathe. Every second that passed without Angelo speaking twisted tighter around my throat.
Ayra shifted, the cha
