Hayden's private jet landed at the airstrip near the Sicilian coast just past midnight.
The moment his feet hit the tarmac, he felt it.
Something was wrong.
Rocco's message had been brief: *"She had a visitor."*
Hayden didn't ask for names. He didn't need to. The only kind of man who would dare breach his walls was one who thought Ana still belonged to a world she no longer did.
He lit a cigarette with steady fingers, jaw clenched tight as the car pulled up.
"Drive faster," he told the guard. "If anyone touched her, I want their body in the water before sunrise."
The villa glowed like a crown on the hill—beautiful, isolated, vulnerable. He hated leaving her here, but he also hated himself more for needing to. For feeling things that weakened him. For imagining her alone in bed, aching for answers he couldn't give her.
He walked through the front doors like a storm wrapped in silk.
Ana stood in the main hallway, barefoot in one of his shirts, eyes wide with restrained panic. Rocco stood nearby, expression tight. The air between them was thick with things unspoken.
Hayden's gaze locked onto her.
"Where is he?"
Ana stepped forward. "Gone. He left right after Rocco called you."
"You let him leave?" he hissed.
"I *asked* him to leave."
Hayden's voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "You think your words mean anything when my blood could've been spilled on these floors?"
Her chin lifted. "He didn't hurt me."
"That's not the point," he growled, stepping closer. "He came here. He saw you. He breathed the same air as you—and I didn't permit it."
Ana's hand twitched at her side. "He's my family."
Hayden stopped inches from her, eyes burning. "So was mine. Until yours burned them alive."
Her breath hitched.
"Leo didn't—"
"I don't care," Hayden said coldly. "He came into *my* house. Into *my* territory. He made you think, for even a second, that you could leave me."
Silence fell. A suffocating silence.
Then Hayden turned to Rocco. "Did you touch him?"
"No, sir. He walked out the front gate."
"Next time, don't let him walk."
"Yes, sir."
Ana stared at Hayden, something in her snapping. "You're really going to kill my cousin for *visiting* me?"
Hayden turned back to her. "I'm going to kill anyone who thinks they can take you from me."
Her heart pounded as he stalked toward her. She took a step back instinctively—but he caught her arm and yanked her against him.
"You think he can protect you?" he said, voice low, dangerous. "You think there's a single person on this planet who can touch what's mine and walk away whole?"
His mouth crashed onto hers—rough, possessive, more rage than affection.
She fought it. For a second.
Then melted into it, because as twisted as it was, this was the only place she felt real anymore. In the arms of the man who ruined her peace, and yet somehow became the only thing anchoring her to this world.
When he finally pulled back, his eyes were wild.
"I left for three days, Ana."
"I didn't ask him to come," she whispered.
"But you didn't send him away."
She hesitated.
Hayden's grip softened slightly. "You're mine. Say it."
She didn't respond.
He backed her into the nearest wall, his breath on her skin.
"Say it."
"I'm yours," she breathed, hating how easily it fell from her lips.
He smiled against her neck. "Good."
He lifted her off the ground with sudden force, and she gasped as he carried her upstairs without another word—into the darkness of their bedroom, where his need for her burned away every question.
He didn't take his time tonight.
It was claiming, not comfort. A reminder to them both.
That no matter who came for her, no matter what past whispered to her soul—Hayden Moretti had her now.
And he wasn't letting go.