75

Faust

Enzo was much stupider than I expected.

Despite what he said to Marco, Enzo refused to pass his business on to me. It didn't make sense. He was weak, had suffered fractures and internal bleeding. The air left his lungs like a whistle. How he was still holding on to everything he had endured was a damn miracle.

But I was tired of it. I had a woman to conquer, and spending my nights in the dungeon with Enzo wasn't helping me in that endeavor. I planned to get your cooperation tonight no matter what.

He needed to die.

Marco had Enzo hanging in the cell, chains tying him to the ceiling. His toes barely reached the stone floor and his shoulder had dislocated hours ago. I pressed on his shoulder joint and Enzo shuddered, a moan escaping his lips. — Are you going to sign? — I asked, pressing again. —Although I suppose you'll have to use your other hand to write.

He panted, his head lolling forward into her neck. No answer.

— Why are you doing this to yourself, Enzo? The pain will go aw