[Alfio's POV—Hospital]
"Heal well, for the punishment—waiting for you."
Salvo's voice crawled through my skull like a siren, wailing and sweet and dangerous at the same time.
Fear lives in small things first. The way my hand trembled when I reached for the water cup. The way my leg throbbed when the sheet brushed the cut—sharp, glass-sliced, and angry beneath the gauze.
I told myself to think. To make sentences and logic and apologies that could be offered and possibly—barely—accepted. If I could make him understand. If I could unmake the part of why I ran. Before he decided what punishment would be fit.
Then...
Footsteps came—right, then left, then the measured shuffle of the doctor. Salvo followed, gliding behind him like heat follows a match. The doctor's gaze landed on me.
And my gaze...at Salvo. The doctors checked my injuries and my pulse.
