I barely registered my own feet moving as Matteo and I carried Eli’s lifeless body out of the basement. He felt weightless in my arms, his body unnervingly cold, his skin ashen, lips tinted blue. My heart was dying in my chest, squeezing tighter with every second that passed. Matteo’s grip on Eli was almost too tight, his knuckles were white as he supported Eli’s legs, his own face was filled with pure horror. “Luca, he’s barely breathing,” he choked out. “Fucking hell, what have we done?” I didn’t answer—I couldn’t. My mouth parted but no words came. My mind was filled with so much emotions like that of self-hatred, guilt, and fear. I had done this. My rage. My fucking insecurities. My need for control. I had locked him down there like an animal, left him alone in the dark. I thought I was proving a point. Instead, I had nearly killed him. We stormed into the living room, laying him on the couch. Matteo i
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