Enzo's POV
The air in that grimy, dimly lit room felt like it was choking me, thick with the stench of sweat, dust, and something darker something that made my skin crawl.
My voice trembled as I pleaded, my words barely audible over the pounding in my ears. "Please… you don't have to do this just because my dad said you can."
My eyes darted from one man to the other, searching desperately for a flicker of mercy, but there was none.
My plea fell into the stale air like a stone sinking into a pit. They didn't slow down, didn't even pretend to hesitate.
I watched, frozen with dread, as they stripped off their clothes with a disgusting sort of anticipation, their leers making bile rise in my throat.
"Take off your clothes," one of them ordered, his lips twisting into a smile that made my stomach turn.
The tone wasn't a suggestion it was a command, low and deliberate, the kind of voice that wanted to strip more than just fabric.
