CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

VINCENZO

I felt fear grip me like never before, coursing through my veins and paralyzing my every movement. It was a sensation I had rarely experienced in my life, only once before when I held my mother's lifeless body in my arms. 

Despite the countless dangers I had faced, the tortures endured, and the wounds suffered, fear had never managed to penetrate the walls I had built around myself.

But now, as I held Anya's fragile, wet body against mine, fear consumed me. Every fiber of my being trembled with an overwhelming sense of dread. Her coldness seeped into my bones, chilling me to the core. My gaze fell upon her wrist, where the evidence of her desperate act lingered. Anya had tried to take her own life.

With trembling hands, I reached out to feel her pulse, praying for the faint beat that reassured me she was still fighting. It was there, weak and fragile, a thread of hope amidst the darkness. Anya was battling for her life, and