Don Montecarlo nodded gently. "Accept their apology. Children make mistakes."
My hands trembled as I reached out, slowly peeling back the ribbon. My breathing grew shallow, uneven.
The moment I lifted the lid—
The world tilted.
A scream tore out of my throat before I could stop it.
Inside the box—
Miso.
My puppy.
Lying completely still. Lifeless.
His soft white fur… soaked in red.
And beneath his small, fragile body—
Another note.
"You'll be next if you don't leave."
The box slipped from my hands, crashing to the ground.
Everything spun.
Enzo froze. Don Montecarlo murmured something in shock.
And the children…
They simply smirked.
Then turned away.
As if none of it mattered.
As if he had never mattered.
I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't see.
All I could see…
Was Miso's lifeless eyes staring back at me.
Don Montecarlo's cane slammed against the marble floor with a sharp, bone-rattling crack as he stepped forward, the sound echoing through the hall and silencing everything in an instant. Two soldiers by the far door straightened. A conversation across the room died mid-word.
"Who did this?" His voice carried no trace of weakness. It was cold, commanding, and filled with restrained fury.
No one answered.
The six children stood there with their heads lowered, shoulders tense, putting on the perfect act of innocence. Anyone else might have believed them.
But I saw it.
I saw Gianna's lips twitch slightly, the faintest hint of a cruel smile before she quickly hid it. Her chin tilted up and to the left, just barely, the same angle I'd seen when she delivered her worst words. Then she caught herself and let it drop.
Enzo looked pale, his composure cracking. "I… I didn't know. I swear."
Don Montecarlo turned to him slowly, his gaze cutting like a blade. "Do not swear, Enzo. Your ignorance is your shame."
I held Miso closer, his small body limp in my arms. His white fur was soaked red, sticky against my skin. My tears fell onto his face, but he did not move. He never would again. My left hand found my wrist, fingers pressing down hard against the bare skin where my mother's bracelet once sat, pressing until the pressure burned, until it was the only thing I could feel besides the grief.
"He was just a puppy," I whispered, my voice breaking apart. "He didn't do anything wrong. He didn't deserve this."