He holds my stare a half-beat too long.
Then, he pastes himself back together.
“You’re not an heir,” he sneers. “You’re a broke little boy in a dead man’s costume.”
“Take me anyway.”
The air tightens.
Holds.
“And she walks.”
Carlo studies me like meat.
“You’d die for her?” he asks, curious now.
My mouth barely moves.
“I already did.”
Something flickers across his face.
Fear.
Recognition.
He hides it badly.
“Giovanni lied to you,” I say quietly. “About who I am. About my purpose.” I don’t blink. “He trained me to kneel, so I’d know exactly where to stab when men like you thought I was praying.”
Carlo laughs, but it doesn’t reach anywhere real.
“Big speech,” he says. “Still just one man.”
I lift my empty hands higher.
“Kill me,” I tell him. “Hang me from this door. Make me a warning.”
Then I lean in.
“But you touch her again, and this city wakes up screaming in our name.”
He glances at my throat.
The place the collar used to live.
His voice drops.
“You’re offering yourself like a martyr.”
“No.”
“I’m offering you a war you don’t survive if you refuse.”
He looks past me.
Then back.
