CHAPTER 217
ROMEO POV
The basement smelled like iron and blood
It always did.
The lights above the interrogation room hummed softly, casting a pale glow over the chair bolted to the floor.
The man tied to it barely looked human anymore not because of blood or gore, but because whatever fight he'd had left in him had been systematically erased.
Marco.
His head hung forward, chin resting against his chest, wrists bound behind the chair so tightly his shoulders trembled with every shallow breath he took.
One eye was swollen shut. The other flickered open when he sensed movement—fear sharpening what little awareness he had left.
Good. He was still conscious. I stood across from him, jacket off, sleeves rolled just enough to be comfortable.
Calm. Unhurried. There was no rush here.There never was.
Marco coughed, a wet, broken sound. "Rom...romeo" His voice cracked like the word itself hurt him.
