But when she looked at me, it mattered.
It mattered too much.
I stop walking. My boots crunch gravel near the side gate of the courtyard. I stare at the iron bars, breathing hard.
She’s young. Reckless. Soft.
I squeeze my eyes shut for a second and whisper, "Stay away from me, princess."
Even as I say it, I know I don’t mean it. I don’t want her to stay away. I want her close. I want her safe. I want her to bemine.
God, what am I doing?
She’s eighteen—barely more than a girl.
And yet…
I think of the hundred grand in my account, another little thank you besides the promotion. A silent pat on the head. Good dog. Take the money and shut up.
But I don’t want their money.
I want her.
Not to touch. Not to own. I just want…to be enough.
Enough that she wouldn’t have to marry some polished capo’s son someday.
Enough that when she's old enough, it could be me.
To see her smile and knowIput it there.
I want her to look at me and see more than a shadow.
More than a foot soldier.
More than a weapon.
I want to besomeone.
And I’m not.
Not yet.
But I could be.
The thought slams into me like a steel door kicked open.
You want to be worthy of her? Then become someone who can’t be ignored.
I can’t stay invisible anymore.
I can’t keep crawling through back alleys and pretending power doesn’t matter.
Sophia Orsi rattled something loose in me—shook the rot from the bones.
If I ever want to deserve her…
I have to rise.
