The dark swallowed everything.

Not just the kind of dark that comes when a light burns out. This was heavier, alive, pressing against skin and bone. It sat in Noa’s chest like wet ash, smothering, suffocating. His breath clawed out of his throat, jagged, frantic, too loud for the silence it broke. Every exhale scraped his ribs, every inhale felt like glass.

He couldn’t see Alessio anymore. Couldn’t see the iron. Couldn’t even see Marco’s body, though he knew he knew it was sprawled ...