Page 81 of Inside the Sun

And me…? I fight for breath; it’s super hitched.

What kind of magic is this? Insane chemistry. I want him to stay, to talk, to touch my skin. I need to look at him. To feel like I’m standing in the shade of a giant tree, safe.

Take the pain, gardener.

Ragnar.

Drown it out, please. Just drown it out…

***

At lunch, I’m so absentminded I barely register anything going on around me. I keep poking at my ravioli, which is actually delicious, filled with runny yolk and covered in a creamy maitake and fennel bulb sauce with romanesco, but I can’t focus on the flavors. My head’s buzzing like a beehive.

Anzo is present, that omega Ennio shows up again. The capo treats him differently than he treats Rocco or Luca.

It feels like those two are just muscle to him, like he doesn’t respect their minds. But Ennio’s a different case. They’re talking about land prices for residential and commercial investment in one of the city’s districts.

I can tell Anzo actually listens to Ennio’s opinion and takes it seriously.

Is Ennio one of those mafia ‘consigliere’ types? I have no idea. But he’s got that cold civil servant vibe, speaking with sharp precision, no wasted words.

Maybe Anzo likes that? No clouds of testosterone, no red, overheated alpha mugs, just knowledge and professionalism.

Ennio ignores me completely, acting as if only Anzo is in the room. He doesn’t even look at Rocco and Luca much. Even when they say something, he just doesn’t seem interested in including them in an intelligent conversation.

After lunch, I go out to the patio. Unfortunately, I don’t see Ragnar anywhere.

For a moment, I scan the garden with a hopeful gaze, but he is not here.

Disappointing. Because I just… really need to see him again. Even if I know I shouldn’t approach him.

Just to see him, okay?

Nothing wrong with that!

I head back to my room, deciding to take a shower and maybe do something… pleasant there, thinking about wrapping my lips around a certain person’s cock. It would be the first time since I got here, but… I hear a noise in the hallway. A moment later, there’s a knock on the door.

When I open it, two guards are carrying… my harp inside.

Wow. That's a surprise. Anzo kept his damn promise.

Thankfully, it’s still in its case.

I just hope they didn’t bang it up.

I direct them where to place it, trying not to show how excited I am.

This thing connects me to my old life.

One more grain of hope, something that might help me survive. Keep me from falling apart too fast.

Didn’t think I’d ever see it again, let alone touch it. It was a gift from my father for my fourteenth birthday. For a second, I just stand there, staring at it like it might disappear if I blink. My fingers itch, but I don’t move.

Finally, it’s too tempting. I sit down, hesitantly. The stool they brought wobbles a little, but I don’t care. I run my hand across the strings, they’re out of tune, of course. I grab the tuning key and fix it by ear. No apps, don’t need one. The E string’s flat, C’s way off, so I go string by string, getting it back to where it’s supposed to be.

At least something in this place can sound right.

Once it’s tuned, I start slow; arpeggios, scales, stuff I’ve done a million times, just warming up. My hands remember what my head’s too cluttered to think about.

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