Michelle saw the color drain from his face. "Hey, are you okay?"
Milo didn't answer. His mind was a storm of fear. He looked at the door, half-expecting Nero to burst through and drag him away.
In the living room, the atmosphere was a sharp contrast to the warm kitchen. Salvatore sat on the sofa, looking perfectly relaxed as he sipped a cup of black coffee.
Nero sat down on the sofa by the fireplace, his posture stiff, his eyes darting around the room with impatience.
"I need him back, Salvatore," Nero said, his voice tight.
"I told you. He stays here," Salvatore replied simply. He didn't even look up from his cup.
"No way," Nero snapped. "He's been here all night. That's enough."
"Well, Nero, did you give him to me as a gift? You shouldn't take a gift back. It's so rude."
"What?" Nero was shocked, his composure slipping. "It was for one night."
