Night had fallen by the time Alessio returned.
The cell door opened and he walked in, followed by a kitchen worker carrying a covered tray. The worker set it on the small desk without making eye contact with either of them, then hurried out like he couldn't leave fast enough.
Alessio stood there for a moment, his eyes finding Elian still crouched on the floor where he had been for hours.
Then he pointed at the tray in a sharp, condescending manner.
"Eat." He uttered the command.
Elian stared at the covered tray, then back at Alessio's face. His expression was still hard, jaw still tight with residual anger from earlier. That cold fury hadn't left his eyes.
Elian almost preferred it when Alessio screamed or threatened. This silent, simmering rage was worse somehow. And yet he was still trying to feed him?
It didn't make sense.
Elian's gaze dropped back to the tray but he didn't move toward it.
