Enzo's car screeches to a halt behind the second car, blocking any escape route. He gets out along with Emilio and another man I don't recognize, all moving with deadly purpose.
"Step away from the car." Enzo's voice carries clearly across the distance.
The scarred man doesn't move. "Benedetti. We were just having friendly conversation with your americana."
"Step away from her car. I won’t tell you again."
There's a moment of tense silence where nobody moves. Then the scarred man takes a deliberate step closer to my window instead of away.
"We were discussing respect," he says loudly enough for Enzo to hear. "And boundaries."
Enzo starts walking toward us, and something about the way he moves makes my breath catch. This isn't the controlled businessman I know. This is someone much more dangerous.
"Touch her and you're dead." His voice is perfectly calm, which somehow makes the threat more terrifying.
"We are not touching," the scarred man replies, but I notice he doesn't move any closer to my car. "Just talking. Like civilized men."
"Civilized men don't trap innocent women on isolated roads."
"Civilized men respect agreements. Civilized men know their place."
Enzo is close enough now that I can see his face clearly. His expression is absolutely cold, and now I understand why the villagers treat him with such careful respect.
"My place," he says quietly, "is wherever I choose it to be. Your place is wherever I allow you to exist. Do I make myself clear?"
The threat is unmistakable, and the scarred man finally takes a step back from my car.
"This is not over, Benedetti."
"Yes, it is."
Something in Enzo's voice makes both men exchange glances. The second man says something urgent in Italian, tugging at his partner's sleeve.
"We will go," the scarred man says, but he's looking at Enzo, not me. "But the message stands. Respect goes both ways."
"The only message here," Enzo replies, "is that touching what's mine has consequences. Remember that."
What's mine.
The men back toward their cars, never taking their eyes off Enzo and his companions. I notice Emilio has positioned himself to block any sudden moves, while the third man has his hand inside his jacket.
"Madison," Enzo says without looking away from the other men. "Are you hurt?"
"No, I'm fine."
"Lock the doors," he says quietly. "Don't get out unless I tell you."
I do as he says, my hands shaking as I lock the doors. Through my windows, I watch the tense standoff continue.
The scarred man gets into his car first, but slowly, maintaining eye contact with Enzo the entire time. The second man follows, and both cars start their engines.
"This isn't finished," the scarred man calls out his window as they begin to move.
"Yes," Enzo replies. "It is."
The cars drive away slowly, the one in front heading down the mountain while the one that was behind me makes a careful U-turn and goes back the way we came. Even in retreat, they're making it clear they're not afraid.
But they left.
