Page 136 of Broken Honor

“The days I disappeared…” His voice steadies. “I went to see a doctor in Florence. Detox specialist. Dr. Paolo Massini. Said I wanted my brain back.”

“Do you have it?”

“Getting there.”

I lean back, pressing my head against the wall. “Good.”

A moment.

Then I ask, “What about the girl?”

He doesn’t speak for a second. “I returned her.”

I glance toward the darkness where his voice comes from. “To her family?”

“Yeah. Grandmother.”

I nod slowly. “Good. You did right.”

He lets out a breath. “I thought you’d be furious.”

I smirk faintly. “I was going to kill her. Then I couldn’t. You think I want to add that to my ledger?”

He’s quiet.

“Are we stuck here forever?” he asks.

“Of course not.”

He lets out a humorless laugh. “And how the hell do you know that?”

I reach down into the waist of my pants and pull out a thin, rust-streaked key. It’s small, almost invisible in the dark.

“Stole a key from a guard,” I mutter. “Two weeks ago. Slipped it while he bent to drop food. Must’ve swapped to a backup before Bugatti noticed.”

I slide it across the damp floor. The key scrapes against stone and hits Riccardo’s boot.

He leans forward awkwardly, grabs it with the good arm—wincing as he works the lock.

His chains loosen and drop. He exhales, rubbing his wrist where the metal’s left marks.

He slides it back and I work mine open and roll my shoulders, breathing in something that finally feels like control again.

The room is quiet—chains piled like dead serpents around our feet.

“Ready to fix what we broke?” I murmur.

Riccardo flexes his bruised wrist and nods once.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Footsteps echo down the corridor—slow, steady, confident.

I tilt my head toward the sound and murmur, “I hope your arm hurts like hell.”

“Deserved,” he mutters, just as the door creaks open.

Two guards walk in—one to each cell. They’re carrying trays, not weapons. Perfect.

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