Adamo groaned and I turned to him, kneeling before him. Only a small part of his tattoo had been burned away, and the skin was blistered and red. I touched his shoulder and he flinched. “Adamo,” I whispered. He raised his head a few inches, teary eyes meeting mine. A weak smile pulled at his lips. “Serafina.” How he could still sound friendly after what had been done to him was a mystery to me.
