Page 196 of Inside the Sun

Anzo looks at me, frowning.

"You don't know because no one among the living knows. My father, Tito, and Paolo took this knowledge to their graves. I’ve kept it secret for a reason. But now I don’t give a damn anymore. The whole world can know. The time is here, the moment when what I lost… I take it back."

The next moment, Matteo and two other guys enter the room and start pushing my cage, then Eliano’s… and finally Mauro’s. They align them in a straight line, mine at the front, Ragnar’s at the back. Then, without a word, they leave the room.

How strange.

Only after, Anzo starts undressing.

Everyone stares at him in shock, none of us understanding what the hell is happening. It’s… surreal.

He pulls off his shirt and undershirt, and we see his lean, wiry chest, covered in scars, crisscrossed in every direction. Thin lines, thick welts, burn marks… some patches look like someone took a cheese grater to them. Others look like skin has been torn off entirely.

His mechanical arm is seamlessly integrated into his shoulder, with artificial skin covering the joint and bicep. The forearm is fully metallic, but his hand is once again wrapped in a glove of synthetic skin.

But Anzo’s not done yet.

He keeps undressing: unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants, letting them fall to the floor until he’s standing in nothing but boxer briefs.

His body is slender, with a rather delicate frame, his skin is light olive, and he has no hair on his chest.

Then he bends down and buckles the belt back on. This time with two holsters attached, guns tucked inside. It looks absurd, almost like a sick parody.

And then comes the final moment. Anzo presses his lips together, and in one quick move, yanks down his boxers and tosses them aside.

He stands before us completely naked, except for the gun belt slung across his hips.

My eyes don’t want to look—but they do.

I’ve never seen anything like it.

I can’t wrap my head around the horror, the sheer horror of what’s been done to him.

Anzo has been brutalized.

Where his penis should be, there’s only a terrifying, scarred-over wound.

I gag.

Whatever’s left in my stomach comes flying up my throat and splatters on the ground.

Everyone else is still staring at his body, and I see the same horror mirrored in their eyes.

Anzo’s face twists in bitterness.

He speaks in a loud, guttural voice that almost sounds like a roar:

"I am exactly the kind of beast they made me into!"

The villainous declaration hits like a shockwave, making every hair on my body stand on end. I know the others feel it too. We’re all locked into the same current, the same shock.

And Anzo even smiles, with a madman type of grin.

Then he lowers his head and goes quiet for a moment.

When he speaks again, his voice is calmer. Quiet, nearly gentle.

"I’ve heard it so many times, you can choose to stop it with yourself, stop the cycle, end the abuse. But fuck that. I don’t wantto stop anything. I just want back what they stole from me. And I know, Sun. I know you can make that happen."

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