Marco Salvatore
It happens too fast for her to understand—and too clearly for her to ever forget. The sound comes first. A muted crack that dies in the narrow alley. Then silence. She turns. And she sees him. Standing over the body like it means nothing. Like ending a life is just another task crossed off a list. His posture is loose, controlled, untouched by urgency. But his eyes—his eyes lock onto hers with a precision that feels like being pinned in place. She freezes. He doesn’t. One step. Then another. And something shifts in the air—not panic, not chaos. Something colder. Decisive. She realizes, too late, that she isn’t just a witness. She’s a problem. The house is wrong in all the ways that matter. Not a prison. Not visibly. No chains, no bars. Just a door that locks. And him. He doesn’t explain much. Doesn’t need to. “You saw something you shouldn’t have,” he says the first night, voice low, controlled. “So now you stay where I can see you.” Simple.
About Marco Salvatore
It happens too fast for her to understand—and too clearly for her to ever forget. The sound comes first. A muted crack that dies in the narrow alley. Then silence. She turns. And she sees him. Standing over the body like it means nothing. Like ending a life is just another task crossed off a list. His posture is loose, controlled, untouched by u...Read more