He steps into our path, his hands in his pockets, his expression carved from ice.
His sharp gaze flicks over Sofia, cataloging every bruise, every mark, the torn fabric of her clothing, the tremble still lingering in her body. But if he feels anything, he doesn’t show it.
Then, his attention shifts to me.
"You disobeyed a direct order, Marco," he says, his voice smooth.
The tension that had been momentarily eclipsed by the chaos of getting Sofia back slams back into place.
I meet his gaze unflinchingly.
"I did what I had to do," I reply, my voice just as cold, just as firm. "She’s under my protection now."
A muscle tics in Luca’s jaw.
There’s a long, heavy silence.
The kind that feels like the sharp edge of a knife, poised just before it plunges in.
Then, before Luca can respond?—
A blur of movement.
Valentina.
She pushes past Luca, rushing toward us. Her heels click sharply against the marble, but her focus is locked solely on Sofia.
"Sofia!" Her voice is thick with emotion, her hands reaching.
Sofia barely has time to react before Valentina pulls her into a fierce, protective embrace.
A small sound escapes Sofia’s lips—half a gasp, half a sigh—as she lets herself collapse into the embrace, as if the last of her strength has been holding her upright long enough to make it back.
Valentina clutches her tightly, one hand cradling the back of Sofia’s head, the other wrapped around her shoulders. "You’re safe," she murmurs. "You’re safe now."
Sofia doesn’t respond right away. She just buries her face in Valentina’s shoulder, her body trembling with exhaustion, with the weight of everything she’s survived.
Luca watches. I watch him.
His gaze lingers on Sofia for a moment longer before he looks at me again. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his eyes are cold. Luca is displeased.
14
MARCO
The corridors of the estate are eerily silent, but the stillness is thick, charged with the weight of everything that’s just happened. Footsteps echo against polished marble, a slow, steady rhythm as I lead Sofia away from the entrance, away from Luca’s scrutiny, away from the tension that still lingers like smoke in the air.
She walks beside me, but I can feel the strain in her every step. She’s running on fumes, her body drained, her mind likely caught in a spiral of exhaustion and unease. She hasn’t spoken since Valentina released her from that crushing embrace, and I haven’t pressed her. She needs time to breathe, to process. To remember that she’s safe now.
Even if I know that safety is nothing more than an illusion.
We turn a corner, and the familiar scent of aged wood and clean linen filters through the air as I guide her toward a part of the house few ever step into. This wing of the estate is meant for those who need protection—secure, heavily guarded, tucked away from the eyes of men who see everything as leverage.
That won’t happen to her ever again.
Not while I’m still breathing.
I reach the door at the end of the hall and push it open, revealing a softly lit room. Warm golden light spills from a vintage lamp, casting gentle shadows across the space.
