ENZO
I DIDN’T SAY a word when I got back to the house.
My boots tracked ash across the marble. Smoke clung to me like it had soaked through the skin and settled in the bones. The guards didn’t look at me. They knew better.
I went upstairs. Straight to my room.
My head pounded. Fists still twitched like I hadn’t killed enough men to make the ache stop.
I didn’t stop until I hit the bathroom. I didn’t bother flipping on the lights, just twisted the shower handle and stepped under the spray as steam clawed at the mirror.
Clothes dropped one piece at a time. Everything stinking of gasoline, ash, and blood.
I scrubbed harder. Palms red. Water hotter than necessary. Like if I could peel off enough layers, I’d reach something untouched. Something that hadn’t watched two men burn. Something
