The car came to a stop on the gravel driveway of the Portello mansion. The headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the stone pillars of the entrance.
Salvatore stepped out of the vehicle first. He walked around to the passenger side and opened the door.
Milo sat on the leather seat, clutching Salvatore's oversized jacket around his shoulders. He was shivering. The fever made the lights of the mansion look blurry and distorted.
"Can you walk?" Salvatore asked. His voice was steady, showing no sign of warmth or coldness.
Milo looked at the distance between the car and the front door. He gripped the jacket tighter, trying to pull the fabric over his lap to hide his nakedness.
"Y-yes," he whispered.
Milo slid his legs out of the car. As his bare feet touched the ground, the cold stone sent a jolt through his body. He stood up, but his knees felt like they were made of water. He wobbled, his hand reaching out to the car door for support.
