Chapter 81|| SANCIA'S POV ||The ship swayed gently beneath us as it cut through the waves. The rhythmic creak of the wood and the distant cry of gulls were the only sounds, save for the occasional groan from Vincenzo. He was leaning against the railing, his bandaged leg stretched out awkwardly. The late afternoon sun bathed him in golden light, softening the hard angles of his face.I stood a few paces away, my arms crossed tightly over my chest. I’d barely spoken to him since we boarded the ship, my thoughts too tangled to form coherent words. I wasn’t sure if I was angrier at him or at myself.“Sancia,” he said at last, his voice breaking the silence. It was low, hoarse, but held a note of urgency.I didn’t respond. Instead, I kept my eyes fixed on the horizon, where the endless expanse of water met the sky.“Sancia, please,” he tried again, his tone softer now. “Can we talk?”Talk. He wanted to talk. After everything—the lies, the danger, the bloodshed—he thought words could fix
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