FALLON
My head pounds as consciousness returns, a blurry world slowly sharpening into focus. The mattress dips beside me, the subtle creak of movement a familiar sound in this unfamiliar predicament. Wet trails carve paths down my cheeks before I recognize them as tears; they’re mine, the product of a terror I can’t articulate.
“Shh, cara mia,” Leone’s voice is velvet over steel, a caress that promises pain. His fingers brush my cheek, leaving smears of warmth which I realize with horror are blood. “You’re safe.”
“Marcus?” I manage to whimper, throat tight with fear. Silence falls, heavy and suffocating, confirming what I dread. Marcus is gone—Leone’s hands tell his story without words. I shatter then, the sobs breaking free despite my desire to appear strong before this man who personi
