I tried to leave.
I waited until the house was quiet, until I was sure everyone was busy—or gone. I crept out of the room like a thief, barefoot, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. I didn't know where I was going, but I had to move. Had to try.
I padded silently down the hall, past those damn paintings with their judging eyes, past the thick wooden doors that all looked the same. I didn't know what I expected—some dramatic alarm, maybe—but the halls were silent.
Too silent.
When I reached the front foyer, my breath caught. The massive double doors stood before me, wide and imposing, sunlight streaming in from the stained-glass windows above them like a false promise of freedom.
I stepped forward.
The moment my hand touched the brass handle, a voice rang out behind me.
"Going somewhere, little deer?"
My blood turned to ice.
I spun around to find Alessio standing at the top of the grand staircase, leaning against the banister like he'd been watching the whole time.
He wasn't dressed like a mafia king this time—just a black T-shirt and sweatpants—but it didn't matter. He still radiated command, danger, and power. Like he owned every inch of the ground beneath me—and maybe he did.
"I—I was just…" I trailed off, because I didn't have a good lie.
"You were trying to leave," he finished, starting down the stairs. "I warned you not to."
"I don't belong here," I snapped, heat rising in my chest. "I'm not one of your people. I'm not some pawn you can keep locked in your palace."
He reached the bottom step and paused, watching me with something unreadable in his eyes.
"You think this is about ownership?" he asked quietly.
I didn't answer.
He moved toward me slowly, hands in his pockets. Not threatening. Not even angry. Just calm. And that scared me more than rage ever could.
"I've killed men for less than what you did last night," he said. "You saw something that puts your life in danger. You know that."
"And you keep telling me it's for my own protection, but that's not what this feels like," I said, my voice shaking. "This feels like a prison, no matter how pretty the cage is."
He studied me for a long time. Then he nodded once.
"Come with me."
I blinked. "What?"
"Come. I want to show you something."
I hesitated, then followed him. He led me through the house, down a narrow staircase behind the kitchen that I hadn't seen before. It spiraled down into darkness, the air growing colder with each step.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"To the truth."
We reached a heavy steel door. He unlocked it with a fingerprint scan and pushed it open. What I saw inside made my breath catch.
Screens. Dozens of them. A full surveillance center, like something out of a movie. Faces. Names. Buildings. Even… maps of the city.
"This is what I do," he said, stepping into the room. "This is how I keep control. Every deal, every threat, every betrayal—I see it coming before it happens."
I walked slowly, staring at the walls of footage. One screen showed a warehouse with armed guards. Another showed a lavish ballroom.
Another…
I froze.
That was my street. My building. My apartment door.
"You've been watching me," I whispered.
"I've been protecting you."
I turned to him, horror mixing with disbelief. "That was before I saw the alley. Before I even knew who you were."
He said nothing.
"You knew about me." My voice trembled. "Long before we met."
His silence was the answer.
"Why?" I asked. "Why me?"
He stepped closer. I didn't move.
"Because you reminded me of something I lost," he said softly. "Something I didn't think I'd ever find again."
I swallowed. "What?"
"Peace."
It didn't make sense. None of it did. But the way he looked at me—it wasn't fake. It wasn't lust. It was something rawer. Older. Like he had carried this weight for years and only now dared to share it.
"I don't want your world," I said.
He nodded. "But it wants you."
A sharp beep sounded behind him. Alessio turned toward one of the screens.
The image flickered, then zoomed in.
A car. Parked outside my old apartment.
Three men.
He leaned forward, frowning. "That's not one of mine."
My stomach dropped.
"What does that mean?"
"It means someone else knows who you are. And they're looking for you."
He looked at me, jaw clenched.
"You're not safe anymore, Elena. Not just from me. From them."
I felt the floor tilt beneath me.
This wasn't just obsession.
This was war.
And somehow—I'd just become the reason for it.