“Fuck off, Ace,” he mutters, yanking the rope taut and stepping back.
And then my body jerks, two inches off the ground, shoulders screaming under the weight. Pain tears down my arms, but I keep my face still, my eyes forward. No emotion. No weakness.
“Remember,” Elijah says, gathering the blade and alcohol. “Show strength. Nothing else.”
I don’t answer. I don’t give him the satisfaction.
He sits in the chair across from me, silent. Watching, but not watching. Pretending my suffering is just routine. Pretending this isn’t personal. But I know him. I know the way his foot taps when he’s restless, the way he won’t look at me too long in case I read too much in his eyes.
Five hours. Five hours of silence, dangling here, blood rushing from my hands, fire crawling across my skin. If I last, I get two days’ freedom. If I break—cry, wince, beg—I’m back here tomorrow.
I’ve been trained this way since that night. Trained to endure. Trained to survive the inevitable day when an enemy family decides I’m leverage.
I understand why I’m doing this.
I understand it’s for my safety.
But hanging here, I can’t stop the flood of memories of what Elijah and I almost had.
Now, years later, his silence cuts deeper than the ropes biting into my wrists.
Chapter 9
Elijah
It’s hour five.
Five hours since I strapped her to that damn steel bar.
Ace stands in front of me, wrists bound, back straight, and silent.
She’s trying so hard not to move, or even breathe differently. But I see it.
The way her chest subtly rises and falls. The smallest twitch in her leg. The tension rippling beneath her skin.
God, she’s gorgeous.
She doesn’t even realize how impossible she is. How someone like her—all sharp eyes, porcelain skin, black hair and those ice-blue eyes—was built to ruin men like me.
I should look away. Should be cold. Clinical.
But I can’t.
I remember entering the De Luca world full of bravado and bloodlust, every boy desperate to prove himself. I passed the tests without hesitation. Cut off fingers. Broke necks. Tortured grown men for hours without blinking. There’s a reason they call me the quiet one. The efficient one.
Enzo took to me fast. Trusted me. Let me deeper into the family than most.
And eventually, into her world.
At first, I thought I was just helping with her training. Self-defence, light weapons. A cute, off-limits girl hidden away in this testosterone-fueled fortress. A secret dollhouse princess built to be protected.
But I didn’t know.
I didn’t know what she really was.
Didn’t know she was born to be sold off like a fucking antique vase in a mafia treaty.
It was then that I knew I could never get attached to her. So I gave her away.
