He stepped onto the wooden walkway that led over the edge of the swamp. The wood creaked under his bare feet.

"They’ll probably run toward you and devour you if you move too fast," Salvatore said from behind him. "But just stay calm. It’s better that way."

Milo turned his head, his eyes filled with horror. "Sir?"

"Go in," Salvatore repeated.

Milo took another step. He looked down. A large crocodile just a few feet away opened its yellow eyes.

He looked at Salvatore again.

"I’m going to die..." Milo said, his voice cracking.

"Well," Salvatore said, "that depends on you."

How does it depend on me? Milo screamed inside his head. He looked at the beasts. They were starting to stir in the mud. They had noticed him.

"They’re going to eat me," Milo almost screamed.

"Go in," Salvatore said again.

Milo’s lips began to tremble. He was a loser. He knew it. He was a coward who had spent his life being pushed around, and now he was going to die because he didn’t know how to say no.

Damn... He looked at the water. He hoped they would be too full to think about eating him.

"Hey, I don’t taste good. Don’t eat me, okay?" Milo tried to coax them into cooperating.

He took a deep breath. "I’m bitter. Really really taste bad. Don’t even think about tasting me."

He took his second step, moving past the safety of the iron gate. His entire body was trembling with fear. He felt like a lamb walking into a slaughterhouse.

Just as his second foot crossed the threshold, he felt a sudden, violent jerk.

Salvatore had reached out and grabbed the back of Milo’s shirt collar. He yanked the young man backward with incredible force.

The sudden movement made the fabric of the shirt rub hard against the gold rings in Milo’s chest. The sharp pain made Milo gasp, but he was too shocked to cry out.

Milo fell backward onto the grass as Salvatore released his grip. He sat there, staring at the iron gate in front of him.

Alben stepped forward and slammed the gate shut, locking it with a loud click. He was smirking, looking at Milo as if he were a strange insect.

Milo’s heart was pounding against his ribs like a trapped bird. He looked up at Salvatore. The Don was looking down at him, but he didn’t look happy. He looked disappointed. He looked hopeless.

"It is better to die fighting than to die like a fool," Salvatore said. He shook his head and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a lighter.

He looked at Milo again. "Unbelievable. Would you really jump off a cliff just because I asked you to?"

Milo was confused. His brain was trying to process the shift in the atmosphere. "What? I... I was just..."

"Milo, how should I train you," Salvatore mocked. He blew a cloud of smoke into the damp air. "I don’t need a man who can’t even think about his own survival."

Salvatore turned and began walking back toward the main mansion. Milo scrambled to his feet, his knees still weak. He hurried to catch up with the two men.

Was all of this just a test for him? And again, he’d failed!

"I’m really sorry, Sir..." Milo whispered, keeping his head down.

Salvatore stopped so suddenly that Milo almost ran into his back. Salvatore turned around, his eyes flashing with irritation.

"First thing," Salvatore said, "don’t say that stupid word. What are you sorry for?"

Milo flinched as if he had been slapped.

"Before you try to train your body to be my guard," Salvatore continued, "you need to train your mental mind. I don’t need a weak man following me around. Even for a servant, a man who cannot think for himself is annoying. You are not a dog, Milo."

The words felt like a knife in Milo’s chest. He had spent his whole life trying to be the "perfect" servant, the most obedient toy. Now, the man who had saved him was telling him that his obedience was the very thing that made him useless.

He followed behind Salvatore in silence, his eyes fixed on the back of the Don’s black shoes.

Train my mind? he thought. How do I do that when I’ve been told what to do every second for years?

Salvatore looked at Alben when they reached the back garden. "Is Felix ready? We’re leaving now."

"Well, he’s been ready for an hour," Alben said, laughing. "He’s probably cursing right now."

Salvatore smiled. Then he looked at Milo.

The boy looked exhausted, his face still pale and his eyes red-rimmed.

"How are you today?" Salvatore asked, surprising Milo, who hadn’t expected the question.

Milo tried to assess his body again. He didn’t feel a fever, just weak, especially after what he had just gone through. He felt incredibly tired.

"I feel better, Sir," Milo replied.

Salvatore placed his large hand on Milo’s forehead, checking his temperature. Still hot, but not as much as yesterday.

Milo held his breath, smelling the scent of cigarettes on the man’s hand. So close.

"Get some rest today," Salvatore ordered. "Tomorrow, you’ll start your training with the others. I expect you to be ready at six."

Milo nodded.

Salvatore left with Alben, they started talking again. Alben still managed to wink at Milo.

Milo stood on the steps of the mansion, watching them disappear. He looked down at his hands. They were still shaking. He felt small and alone in the middle of the massive estate.

He had just survived the tiger and the crocodiles, but he realized that the hardest part of being in the Portello mansion wasn’t the animals. It was the man who owned them.

He realized Salvatore was a bit confusing. He didn’t know what that man actually wanted. One moment he was so protective, the next so scary.

The level of fear was different from Nero’s. He didn’t know what Salvatore might ask him to do next. He wouldn’t be surprised if that man asked him to jump into the ocean in the middle of the night.

He turned and walked back into the house, his mind weighed down by thoughts of the morning ahead. He didn’t know if he could ever be the "strong man" Salvatore wanted, but he knew he couldn’t go back to Nero.

He didn’t want to.

He had one day to find the courage, or he might end up in the swamp after all.