Alessia sat on the cold concrete floor of the holding cell, her knees drawn to her chest as she stared blankly at the heavy metal door that had trapped her and Laura inside for what felt like days. The room was dimly lit, with a single flickering bulb overhead casting long shadows across the floor. The air was thick with tension, and every second stretched into an eternity.
She had offended Francesco by threatening to kill herself to escape, so he threw her in there to come back to her senses.
Across from her, Laura sat against the wall, knees pulled up, hands trembling slightly. She looked far less composed than usual, the tough exterior she wore like armor slowly crumbling under the weight of their situation. Alessia had never seen her this vulnerable, almost fragile. It made her feel more desperate, knowing even Laura was losing hope.
