Our eyes meet.
For one heartbeat, I see everything—the rage, the shame, the devastation. All of it laid bare in his dark gaze.
Then he looks away.
His chin drops. His shoulders curve inward. And he wheels past me without a word, disappearing down the hallway like I'm not even there.
"Bruno—"
He doesn't stop. Doesn't turn. The sound of his wheelchair fades into the darkness of the compound.
I stand there, staring after him, my throat tight.
Then I turn toward the office.
Pietro stands behind his desk, one hand pressed to his forehead. Valentino leans against the wall, arms crossed, expression grim. And Nico sits in a leather chair, tablet in his lap, scrolling through something like he didn't just tear Bruno apart with his words.
I step inside.
"What the hell happened?"
Nico's head snaps up. His dark eyes narrow. "What the hell did you just ask?"
"You heard me." I move closer, my hands curling into fists at my sides. "What happened? Why was Bruno?—"
"This doesn't concern you." Nico's voice is flat. Dismissive. "Go back to your room."
"No."
The word comes out stronger than I expected. Nico's eyebrows rise slightly.
"Excuse me?"
"I said no." I stop in front of his chair, close enough to see the flicker of surprise in his expression. "I'm not going anywhere until someone tells me what just happened."
"Watch your mouth." Nico's tone drops, dangerous. "You're speaking to?—"
"I know exactly who I'm speaking to." My heart pounds against my ribs, but I don't back down.
Nico's jaw tightens. "No, you don’t."
"Then explain it to me." I take another step closer. "Explain why you just said those things to Bruno. Explain why he left here looking like you'd put a knife in his chest."
"Antonella." Pietro's voice comes from behind me, tired and strained. "This isn't the time?—"
"When is the time?" I spin to face him. "When he's completely destroyed? When he's pushed everyone so far away that no one can reach him anymore?"
Pietro's expression flickers. Something like guilt crosses his features before he masks it.
I turn back to Nico.
"You think I don't see what's happening here?" My voice shakes, but I don't care. "You think I don't understand?"
"You've been here a few weeks." Nico's words are cold. Precise. "You don't understand anything."
"I understand that no one is actually helping him."
The words hang in the air between us.