The bathroom tiles were cold, but the air was thick with the steam Salvatore had let rise from the tub to keep the room warm.
"Sir..." Milo whimpered.
"Sshhh..." Salvatore carried Milo inside carefully, trying not to jostle him too much.
Milo's body was rigid, his mind still cycling through a blurred, terrifying mixture of memory and reality. He wasn't sure if this was real. Salvatore lifted him and hugged him tightly.
He closed his eyes. Through the muffled ringing in his ears, the sound of running water resembled a high-pressure hose, or worse, the dripping dampness of Nero's basement.
Then the clean playroom next to it.
No...
Milo grabbed his head.
Salvatore lifted him higher. "Shhh... Milo. Don't move too much."
"Uh… l-let me down… please," Milo croaked, his voice cracking. He couldn't gauge his own volume, so the words came out in a loud, desperate shout.
He tried to twist his upper body, his bandaged hands thumping uselessly against Salvatore's broad shoulder.
