He was standing, his arms resting on the bars above his head for support. They'd been talking for a while now, and he always faced her. The truth is, he can't get enough of her.

She's beautiful, in a striking and almost-earthy kind of way. Her ink-black hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of midnight, so long that the ends pooled around her in the seated position. Despite the dimness of their captivity, her olive skin seemed to radiate a warm glow, accentuated by the freckles that adorn her. They speckle her nose and cheeks with an endearing charm, drawing attention to the plump, mauve curves of her lips, set in a hard line.

But among all her beauty, it was her eyes that captivated him the most. Two different colors, each a world of its own – the right eye a piercing light blue, reminiscent of a summer sky, while the left gleamed with a deep, rich honey-brown, like the warmth of autumn foliage.

Wearing only the standard Augustine attire – thin black pants and an even thinner tee – he could see every alluring curve of her slender hourglass shape from the way the white, see-through fabric draped shamelessly against her. Every curve was accentuated, every line and shadow a subtle highlight of her undeniable beauty. He tried not to stare, to be respectful, as he was sure she hadn't yet noticed the shirt revealed everything – even the darker round hue of her skin, where her nipples sharpened the shirt.

God, it'd been forever since he'd laid eyes on a woman at all. He wondered if his immediate attraction was because she truly was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, or if he was just that lonely. Maybe a bit of both, but more likely the former, he decided.

He felt guilty for being glad she was here. Over the years, the loneliness becomes more unbearable than the torture inflicted on the operating table.

"Who was that?" was the first question she'd asked.

Enzo's shoulders tensed imperceptibly before he took a heavy breath, his gaze momentarily drifting to the floor before meeting hers once more. "That would be our designated mad scientist – Dr. Witmore," he said, and his voice carried kindness that barely masked his underlying distaste for the man.

"What does he want with us?" Luciana's voice wavered, betraying the fear that gnawed at her insides.

"Dr. Witmore likes puzzles," Enzo growled, his fingers curling tightly around the bars of their cell. "And we're the pieces."

He went on to explain their situation as realistically and sensitively as possible. She should be able to mentally prepare herself for what would happen tomorrow. But the more he talked, the harder it was to continue, seeing the painstaking fear grow in those unique, glowing eyes.

And when he finished, she cried.

The sound echoed off the cold, unforgiving walls of their cell, filling the air with a palpable sense of despair. He hated making women cry. It's always been his weakness. But he waited for her to finish, because… well, what could he possibly say?

As she composed herself, Luciana's gaze met his once more, her eyes glistening with more ready, unshed tears. "How long have you been here?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Enzo hesitated, his gaze flickering away briefly before returning to hers. "It's been a few years," he replied vaguely. No need for her to dwell on how many.

"Years?" Luciana's voice was incredulous, disbelief coloring her features. She didn't know what she expected, but that was not it.

"Well, to be fair, I don't exactly have anyone looking for me," he added. "I don't suppose you have any Sherlock's in your inner circle?"

Luciana bit her lip and shook her head. "No," she replied, her voice more of a small whimper. "I don't have anyone, either."

No one is looking for them. No one will save them. The weight of this realization felt like a crushing pressure on her chest, and Luciana battled to hold her next round of tears at bay. Crying was expelling the very little energy she had left, and from the sound of it, she was going to need all her strength.

Enzo furrowed his brow, his features softening with a reassuring determination. "Well then, I suppose you and I will have to figure a way out of here ourselves." He flashed a confident smile at her, and despite the missing logic, she felt reassured.

"Right," she agreed. They'll figure a way out together.

And then, the door creaked open.