Luciana sat curled in the corner of her cell, her back pressed against the cold concrete wall. Her body ached, her stomach churned, and the humiliation of earlier lingered in the corners of her mind, gnawing away at her resolve. Across the short gap, Enzo sat cross-legged in his cell, silent but watching her with a mix of curiosity and concern.
He'd tried to talk to her, to draw her out of her silence, but she wasn't having it. He didn't push. She wasn't ready to open up, especially to a man who, by all accounts, was still a stranger.
Tears stung her eyes, but they weren't of sadness. They burned hot with rage. She swiped them away quickly, ashamed of every drop, as if each one marked another failure of the day. Fuck him. He doesn't deserve my tears. He'd already stripped her of so much. Yet the angrier she became, the harder it was to stop the tears from falling.
The heavy creak of the steel door broke the thick silence in the small prison. Two guards entered, one carrying a small metal tray with two tiny paper cups. The faint scent of blood wafted through the stale air, igniting an instinctive hunger in Luciana's core.
She swiped her tears one last time, and with a face like stone, she refused to let another fall. Forcing herself to her feet, she bit back the groan threatening to escape as her battered body protested. Step by step, she walked to the bars, her posture tall and unyielding despite the pain.
Enzo noticed her movements, the way she straightened her spine and lifted her chin. Her expression was steely, her mismatched eyes blazing with defiance. You could almost miss the tremor in her stance if you weren't paying attention. Enzo smirked faintly, impressed. She held onto her dignity with a fierce, quiet strength.
"Here we go," Enzo muttered under his breath, pushing himself up with deliberate, unhurried movements. He leaned casually against the bars, watching as one of the guards approached his cell.
The first guard slid the cup through a small opening at the bottom of Enzo's bars. "Drink up," he said flatly.
Enzo didn't even look at him. He reached down with an almost lazy indifference, his fingers curling around the cup. He brought it to his lips and tipped it back slowly, savoring every drop like a man who knew better than to waste anything.
The second guard, broader and heavier, stopped in front of Luciana's cell. She was already at the bars, her hands gripping the iron as she glared at him with a dangerous edge in her eyes.
"What's wrong, sweet cheeks? You hungry?" the guard sneered, holding the cup just out of her reach. "Tell you what… take your shirt off, and I'll give it to ya."
Luciana didn't flinch. "That's embarrassing. Is this the only way you're able to look at a woman's body?" she shot back, her voice like steel.
The guard's face darkened, and instead of giving her the cup, he tipped it over, the small red liquid spilling on the dirty floor by his boot.
"You don't get how things work around here, do you?" the guard growled. He was just outside her reach, his hand resting on the butt of his baton.
Enzo's eyes narrowed, intimately familiar with the dangerous game she was playing. He'd learned early on to tred lightly with the guards.
"Dr. Witmore ain't the only one who can hurt you here, bitc—"
Before he could finish, Luciana's hands shot up to the bars. With a burst of rage-fueled strength, she hoisted herself up and thrust her legs through the bars, catching him square in the chest. He may have been out of her arms reach, but he was close enough for her to land a solid blow with her legs. The force sent him stumbling back into Enzo's bars with a sickening thud.
Opportunity clicked.
Enzo moved instantly, his hands shooting out to grab the guard by the collar. He yanked him hard against the iron, the man's eyes bulging as Enzo's grip tightened with what little strength he had.
The second guard shouted, rushing forward with his weapon—a syringe.
The hiss of the injection was followed by Enzo's sharp intake of breath. He released his hold, his body convulsing as he crumpled to the floor. A feral hiss escaped his lips as he writhed in pain, the vervain burning through his veins.
The first guard staggered to his feet, coughing and clutching his throat. His eyes burned with fury as he glared at Luciana. "You'll regret that," he spat. "You both will."
"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," Luciana sneered. It was a warning.
The hot-tempered guard lunged toward her again, but the second guard grabbed his shoulder, yanking him back. "Enough," he barked. It wasn't a suggestion.
The first guard obeyed, but as he left, his dark glare lingered. Luciana could feel the weight of his fury, a promise of vengeance hanging in the air.
When the heavy door slammed shut behind them, Luciana turned to Enzo. Her anger melted into guilt as she sank to her knees, gripping the bars.
"Enzo," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to get hurt—"
"Don't," Enzo rasped, his voice hoarse but laced with a faint chuckle. He rolled onto his back, his head lolling against the floor. His lips curled into a weak but sincere smile. "Don't apologize."
"I didn't think it through—"
"I haven't felt this alive in years," he said, his eyes fluttering shut as his voice softened.
Her breath caught in her throat. He laughed again, softer this time, before his body went still and silent.
"Enzo?" she called. He didn't answer.