Hours later,
Esmeralda wheeled herself forward, her hands trembling slightly as she followed Enrico. The tension in the air was suffocating, each click of her wheels on the hardwood floor reverberating like a ticking clock.
Enrico pushed open the heavy door to the next room, the metallic creak echoing ominously. The dim light inside barely illuminated the figure slumped in the center of the room.
Diego sat tied to a chair, his arms bound tightly behind him and his legs secured to the chair legs. His face was swollen, a mess of bruises and dried blood, with a gag stuffed in his mouth to silence him. Despite his disheveled state, his eyes burned with defiance, tracking them as they entered.
Enrico stepped aside, his expression cold and unreadable as he pulled the gun from his holster
