[Alfio's Pov]
He didn't let go of my arm.
Not once.
Not when we stepped out of the sleek black car. Not when we passed the guards who looked away like well-trained dogs. Not even when the heavy doors of the Mancini mansion creaked open like they sensed blood was about to stain the floors again.
His grip was iron.
My wrist felt bruised. My pride already was. I staggered behind him like a chained mutt.
And then we saw them.
Bianca and Aria—sitting in the living room.
Bianca paused mid-sip of her tea, her sharp eyes narrowing behind those perfect lashes. Her brows furrowed instantly, and she rolled her wheelchair forward with more force than usual.
"Brother," Bianca called, her voice tense, "what's going on? Did something happen?"
I wanted to say something. Anything. Scream, maybe.
But Salvo didn't even look at them and said, "STAY OUT OF IT!"
And then...he didn't even blink. Didn't speak. Just kept walking.
